Just A Schoolboy Crush
by ZombeeCat
Summary: Castiel has a cliche crush on the highschool football all-star, Michael Ashton. Even though he's fully aware he's doomed to longing looks and pining in silence, it wouldn't be so bad if his best friend, Charlie, hadn't told Dean. Dean Winchester never seemed to miss a chance to get under his skin but for some reason he starts acting odd when he hears about Castiel's big secret.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

****Trigger Warning****

**There will be self-harm in this and the depiction of the main character's mindset leading up to it. It will not be the complete focus of this story, nor will it lead to suicidal thoughts or attempts but if this will be triggering for you... please please please be responsible and don't read it. I'm not going to warn of what will be in each chapter before-hand because I feel that lessens its impact.**

* * *

Castiel has been staring at the same tight end of Franklin High's tight end long receiver for the past twenty minutes. Michael Ashton. Varsity football player. Highschool god. Senior. Gay. Well maybe. Castiel's pretty sure or maybe it's just wishful thinking.

"I don't know why you're torturing yourself," Charlie says around a bite of the cardboard cafeteria pizza.

He's dragged her out to the bleachers again; like he has every lunch period for the last month and a half to watch the school's pride and joys chase after a ball and run into each other. At least that's what it seems to consist of. But Castiel isn't concentrating on the details of a brutal sport at the moment. He only has eyes for Michael. Dark-hair, perfect profile, firm toned muscles and a boyish smile that causes flips in the pit of his stomach.

"There is no way he's 100% straight."

Charlie sighs, long suffering, flicking her lengthy red hair over her shoulder. The sun was blaring but mid September the air was cool enough that he could sit here in relative comfort even in his slacks and white dress shirt. He's long since stopped attempting to smooth his tie flat, the wind seeming hell-bent on kicking it over his shoulder.

"Could they not at least have the decency to practice at the same time as the cheerleaders? That'd be waaay more fun than watching boys hurt each other for a half an hour."

Castiel had found out he was gay sometime around 8th grade when for the first time ever, he started taking an interest around him in his peers and surprisingly it wasn't in anyone with boobs. He immediately told Charlie, his best friend since grade school, who only laughed, not realizing he hadn't figured that out yet. She'd said her own gaydar had pinged pretty hard in his presence, especially with his adorable determination to wear a suit to school. Since that day, they'd been closer than ever.

"You have Dory," he reminds her, tone carefully devoid of envy. Castiel had never had a boyfriend. He actually only kissed a boy once freshman year but it had never gone anywhere. Aaron had been too deep in the closet and scared of his over-bearing Jewish mother to pursue anything more.

But having luck with the ladies had never been an issue for Charlie. Dory was Dorothy Baum, Charlie's girlfriend since last year. They'd met at the local 7-11 over Cherry slushies and it'd been love at first sight. She goes to the fancy private school up the road from their neighborhood so they only get to see each other weekends and occasionally afterschool, a fact Charlie bemoans every chance she gets.

"Hey, I can look. At least the scenery would be nicer."

"I like the scenery just fine, thank you," he wrinkles his nose around a bite of the same tasteless lunch before tossing it down beside him on the uncomfortable aluminum bench.

Castiel was grateful to have someone like Charlie. She gave him courage when he might otherwise have been too frightened to admit what he was. Having a partner in crime to cling to and assure him he was normal made it a little less scary. He didn't make friends easily. It always seemed like too much work or like he was missing some piece of the equation that made people just click. He usually did the opposite, saying something apparently rude and putting them off. His quiet was often seen as sullenness or introversion mistaken for snobby. But not Charlie. She was outgoing enough for the both of them. He needed her. Someone he could tell everything. _Everything_. And she hadn't ever acted disgusted or scared. But he's not going to think about that right now. Because since he's had Michael to fixate on, he hasn't really had to.

"There are better choices to get your panties in a bunch over."

"You don't know him. He's..." Castiel trails off, scrambling for something that wasn't shallow like he's hot. "Nice." Even to him it sounds a little lame. Irritation has him chewing his lip. If only he could get to know him more, he's sure he could fill a book praising his good qualities.

"Cas, he's making you tutor him. How the fuzzy is that nice?"

"I offered. The teacher was unnecessarily rude in pointing out for the whole class that he was failing."

"Okay and it's been what... two weeks? Have you rescued your beefy damsel from the cliff of academic failure?"

Well he certainly wasn't failing any longer. Michael was getting all his homework assignments in and on time now. Unfortunately it wasn't due to his own merit. In truth, Michael seemed happy with having Castiel show him the answers, saying he was crap with Trig and he wouldn't pass without getting the homework right. And with football practice there was no time… and well how could Castiel just help him out a little? Usually he did the homework and Michael just looked over it in his own time. Supposedly.

Wincing, Castiel knows he's not about to tell Charlie any of that. She just wouldn't understand.

"He's an athlete. They have a very demanding workload. But he is, um.. coming along."

"Cas. He's not gay."

Lifting his chin, he informs her that, "According to a Seventeen magazine poll, at least three out of every ten people questions their sexuality during their teenage years."

Charlie smiles, mouth open wide. "You are not reading Seventeen magazine."

His forehead pinches in confusion. "No. Gabriel told me."

Smirking to herself, Charlie shakes her head. "Okay that's your first problem. Stop listening to your insane sugar-addicted brother."

She lifts her soda to take a drink then drops it again. "And he's like 19. What's he doing reading- you know what, nevermind."

When he only frowns back towards the field, she bumps his shoulder with her own. "Should we review the evidence?"

"If we must," Castiel says without enthusiasm.

She nods. "I think we must."

Clearing his throat, he begins, "Exhibit A: His hair."

"Go on."

"Perfect."

Charlie counters with, "subjective."

"No it's not. I mean literally there isn't a strand out of place. That attention to his appearance is noteworthy."

Shrugging, she answers, "Okay, I'll allow it."

"Exhibit B: His jeans. He irons them."

Charlie squints, thinking. "Yeah but maybe his mom-"

"Even so. He's wearing them."

"Mmkay. What else ya got?"

Blushing slightly, Castiel adds, "he smells good."

Charlie just raises an eyebrow in an unspoken question.

"When we're studying sometimes I can tell he's wearing some expensive after shave or something."

She snorts. "So because he doesn't stink he must be into guys?"

"From my observations, highschool boys, especially highschool boys that play football, either smell like sweat or wear something overpowering like Axe."

"C'mon. All this is circumstantial."

He presses his lips in a line of steely resolve.

"Well would you like my argument?"

"Not particularly," he says dryly, choosing to watch said teenage boy catch a football pass. Or complete a pass... Whatever they called it.

"Okay. Exhibit Uno: Girlfriend."

"You're supposed to go by letter and in response- shockingly little PDA," he immediately counters, but the mention of Michael's gorgeous blonde cheerleadering other half does bring him down.

"Two: His friends. They openly mock you and yours truly for being our fabulous selves."

Translation, they were both out at school and Michael's jock buddies cat called whenever they passed. It was embarrassing but he tried to take it as some warped compliment. They weren't exactly mean, just… _Loud_. Purposely making a scene. He usually just kept walking as normal as he could until he was out of their range.

"He... he never participated," is his only weak response. Michael seemed to just ignore the whole thing but he sure hadn't jumped to the rescue. "Maybe he's afraid to-"

"And three.." Charlie presses on with a little annoyance that he would defend that. She's told him several times that cowardice was no excuse. "He's never picked up on any of your obvious infatuation and honey you are very obvious."

"I can be subtle."

Shaking her head, she hums, "Mmm hmm," before downing the rest of her cherry coke.

Focusing past her, Castiel shields his eyes from the sun to see a silhouette of someone on a skateboard casually rolling down the pathway towards the front of the bleachers.

"Ugh, why does _he_ always show up?

Charlie follows his gaze then smiles and waves.

"Oh stop being such a crabby pants. He's a super cool guy."

Castiel purses his lips, preemptive irritation building. "Why doesn't he just play hacky sack with the other glassy-eyed degenerates during lunch?"

Charlie gives him an unfriendly look. "Hey judgy, hacky sack happens to be fun and he's my friend. Just like you are. Try and make nice for once. Pretty please?"

Castiel leans forward so his elbows are on his knees and faces away as he hears the familiar drawl of one freckled green-eyed annoyance. "What's going on, Red?

Charlie lifts her stiff pizza up. "An Italian tragedy rivaling The Godfather."

Dean laughs. "First or second one?"

"Third," she answers, solemnly.

"Ouch." Dean puts on a fake grimace. "That bad, huh?"

After a second, Dean dips his head trying to see Cas' face which is pointedly aimed at his clasped hands. "You here droolin' again, Novak?"

Sighing, Cas looks up. "Don't you have ramps to hop or 'sweet' flips to do?" Castiel air quotes 'sweet' sarcastically as Dean rolls his eyes and shakes his head. He kicks up his board to catch the tip and plops down next to Charlie.

"Dude, I would take the time to correct everything wrong with that sentence but some people are beyond even my help."

"I don't think you of all people should be correcting anyone's sentences."

"Cute." Dean sneers and motions back to the field. "So this doin' it for ya? Sweaty apes with testosterone squirting out their ears."

"Your insecurity is becoming very transparent. Perhaps with some introspection, you can figure out why you are so threatened by-"

"Introspection? C'mon, who the hell talks like that?

"Intelligent people."

"Or people with a stick up their-"

Charlie whacks them both simultaneously in the back of the head.

"Ow!" Dean protests as Castiel only frowns at her.

"Oh, man up. I didn't hit you that hard." While they're still wincing she looks back and forth at them in aggravation. "I don't get it. You're two of my favorite people. You guys both like me. I'm awesome so you both have great taste. Why aren't you friends?!"

"He's a robot!" "Dean is brain dead." They shout simultaneously.

"Just. Stop." Charlie gets up and stretches, giving up the fight on her lunch all together.

"Whatever." Dean digs in his backpack until he finds some sticky bun thing, ripping the plastic open with his teeth to take a ridiculously large bite and groan obscenely.

Castiel rolls his eyes, trying to put him out of his mind and turns back to watch the players grab their gear and head over to get water. Dean and Charlie's voices are dialed down to background noise as they talk about a new Xbox game he didn't care about.

The bell would ring soon. Today is Tuesday. He can't wait and at the same time wants to push it off another day. He's always a flustered mess by the last bell.

As if following his gaze and thus his thoughts, Dean suddenly says,  
"So you uh, got your study date with jockstrap later right?"

Castiel looks over his shoulder with incredulity. Dean shrugs and waggles his eyebrows. Charlie pointedly doesn't meet his eyes.

His cheeks are hot but he has to say something. "Not that it is any of your concern but yes."

Nodding, Dean glances towards the field again even though it's now empty.

Castiel glares hard at Charlie, willing her to look at him but she was busying herself chipping away at her blue nail polish. The thought that they talked about him – about his ridiculous obsession with someone so out of his league- has his fist balling at his side.

Dean shifts and rubs the back of his neck, unwillingly drawing back his attention.

"Do you have a problem, Dean?" He said it as flatly as possible.

Surprisingly, the response didn't have an ounce of teasing in it.

"Look, not that it's any of my business who you go moony over but that guys-"

"You're completely right. It's none of your business."

Dean seems momentarily frustrated then just sighs. "Just don't want my favorite android short circuiting over a douchebag."

Castiel stands with his back to Dean and the bell rings in the distance a second later.

"Alright, alright. I can see where I'm not wanted," Dean backs away with arms raised in surrender. Shouldering his bookbag, Dean chucks Charlie under the chin. "Later, Red." He hops down the bleachers a few at a time, only pausing once to glance back over his shoulder before dropping his board and riding off.

Castiel turns back to watch him leave and stoically says, "I would appreciate you not discussing my love life or lack thereof with him."

"I just wanted a male perspective," she whines, shifting in place. "Dean thinks he's-"

"What makes you think I'd be interested in what he thinks?" A small curl of betrayal burns in his stomach. It was bad enough having him rub his nose in their choice of lunch spots every day. Now that Charlie had apparently clued Dean into his doomed infatuation, he could only imagine the fodder he would have.

"Seriously why does he bug you so much? He's nice. Really nice. Not 'makes you tutor him' nice."

Why does Dean Winchester bug him? Maybe it was because he always made everything he did seem so effortless. Nothing seemed to bother him. He had an easy teasing sense of humor most probably found charming. He seemed to be a mediocre student at best and was happy with it. He was always in a good mood when he sat with them and it was just irritating. High school was far from the best years of their lives like all the stupid books say. It was an awkward, hormone crazed hell and whenever Dean was around it seemed his unofficial mission to get a rise out of him.

"He's always messing with me," he settles for because saying someone seemed too happy just sounded bitchy.

"That's the way he jokes, Dork."

"I don't like it."

Charlie raises an eyebrow but sees he's not giving an inch. She was wrong and she knows it.

"Okay sorry. I get it, he ruffles your feathers." Charlie smiles guiltily and rocks back on her heels with thumbs in her pockets. "I just worry about you."

"Duly noted."

"Cas.."

After a second he loses the tightness in his shoulders and thinks about forgiving her. It never takes much and possibly the knowledge that he has his afterschool study session to look forward to is making him more lenient than he might otherwise have been.

Seeing him giving in, Charlie quickly adds, "I'm super sorry with two scoops of sorry, extra sorry sauce and sorry sprinkles on top."

He sighs through his nose. "Okay, but only because I need to get to French. And you're on probation for telling that _connard_."

"Ohh, you know I love it when you whisper sweet French nothings to me."

"It means, asshole." He smirks to himself as he begins to hop down from bench to bench like stairs.

"Hey," she stops him at the bottom with a hand on his arm. "Really though. You're... okay? Everything's been good lately?"

Cas tugs at the cuffs on the long sleeves of his shirt on reflex and smiles with strain.

"Yeah it's... I'm fine. I'm good. Thanks."

Charlie hesitates, but lets it go. She's referring to his tragically stereotypical problem that doesn't even happen all that often really.

"Okay well promise you'll text if you need me, kay?"

He nods then lets the smile fall as he turns away. He won't. But he won't need her either. He's pretty sure. He's got it under control.

The final three classes pass quickly, his stomach in knots the whole time until too soon it's after school and he's hurrying through the sea of rushing kids to the library. It stays open an hour after school ends but the buses leave promptly at 3:45. So he has to walk home, but this is worth it.

Castiel's early. As always. He sits and waits, spreading his books out and arranging the papers just so. Michael usually doesn't show up until after 4 anyway which only gives him time to worry and chew his lip raw.

By the time he finally strolls in at 4:10 and slumps into the seat across from him, Castiel has moved and adjusted the set up likely three times.

"Sup, Cassiel?"

He smiles awkwardly. His name was hard to pronounce to some and he lets it go. Again.

"Um well I thought we'd work on this section-"

"Nah I mean, how's it going?"

"Oh." Please don't let him be red. "Good. And you?"

"Yeah, alright. Coach has us running drills day in day out. My legs are killin' me."

He doesn't know what to say to that, so he just nods sympathetically before he can embarrass himself by offering to rub them or something.

"And Shauna's been on my ass all week to go dress shopping with her for homecoming. Shit, sitting in a mall all Saturday while she tries on a never-ending supply of sequins? Nightmare."

Castiel averts his eyes to the ceiling and sighs. "Yes that does seem tedious."

"Yeah you got no idea. And it's all nag nag the entire time."

"Girls, right?" he awkwardly throws out there, only to have Michael shrug noncommittally.

"Yeah, what can you do?"

You can let me kiss you stupid and show you a better sequin free life! Castiel blinks and tries to think of something normal to say. He swears there's a moment where their eyes connect for a second too long but he can't be sure he didn't imagine it. Most likely he was just awkwardly gawking because Michael finally says, "So anyway, you got my homework?"

And within only twenty minutes he's gone and out the door. Castiel spent the whole time staring at his mouth or cheek bones when he wasn't looking, taking in the way his forehead wrinkles slightly in concentration as he skimmed through the notes or his tongue rolled under his bottom lip. Castiel savored these glimpses of mannerisms because too soon their "studying" was over and that'd be all he got until Thursday when he'd repeat the whole pathetic thing. Michael always thanked him and said things like he didn't know what he would do without him but he always left. In the minutes afterward, Castiel entertained fantasies of Michael reaching across the table and kissing him in thanks instead. Or pushing him against a bookshelf and cupping his face telling him how long he's wanted this.

But that's what high school crushes were for, he supposed. To be gorgeous and unobtainable. At least he had a good vantage point.

He grabs his stuff and begins the thirty minute walk home. He never feels especially great about himself after their short time together but at the same time he'll get lost in his thoughts, going over every bit of it like he couldn't help it. Five minutes in, Castiel's startled by a familiar voice behind him.

"Cas. Hey man, what's up?"

He clutches the strap of his bag hard with one hand and curses whatever rotten luck has Dean Winchester on the same road as him at this moment. Not glancing to his right where the other boy is now rolling lazily on his stupid skateboard to keep alongside him, Castiel answers in a monotone, "Hello Dean."

He kicks the ground at a leisurely pace like he has nowhere to be and nothing to do.

"Did you want something?"

"How'd study date go?"

Castiel glares ahead and evenly answers, "Stop calling it a date. I don't appreciate being mocked."

"Why do you have to take everything like an insult?"

Castiel keeps walking, hoping he just leaves without encouragement, but that proves to be too optimistic of a wish.

"So…"

"Why do you care?"

"I don't," he says, easily. "Just a sucker for a teen romance."

"Perhaps you should purchase one then. I've heard Seventeen magazine has excellent literary recommendations."

Dean snorts his laughter, having to step off his board and falls behind for a moment. Despite himself, Castiel smiles but doesn't slow. Dean eventually catches up until he's beside him again.

They continue in silence for about another minute before he can't take it anymore. Idly he asks, "Interesting mode of transportation. Don't you have some loud and ridiculously masculine car?"

"Baby's in the shop. So I'm all yours."

"Lucky me."

Dean frowns and shakes his head. "So what's up? Why don't you like me?"

"Does everyone have to?"

Shrugging, Dean allows, "Guess not."

When the silence stretches again without Castiel adding anything, Dean makes a little scoffing noise of impatience. "What's a guy gotta do to get a decent word from you? Wear shoulder pads? Speak real slow? I could crush a beer can on my head if that'd help?"

"That's not- He's an athlete," Castiel grinds out, and Dean only rolls his eyes. Annoyed, he stops and turns to face him for the first time. "Michael has a lot more going for him that you. He might get a scholarship for college. Are you even going to college?"

Irritatingly, Dean just smiles like nothing Castiel said touches him but there's a tightness in that familiar upturned of lips now. A small victory. "Bite me, Nerd Angel."

"Nerd Angel?" he repeats, scrunching his face in confusion.

Dean, who had been focusing on balancing the board at a 45 degree angle next to him, screws his mouth up like he might not even answer then shrugs nonchalantly and says,"Yeah didn't you say you were named after an angel?"

Had he told Dean that? It must have been quite a while ago. It aggravated him even more that Dean could remember this detail from whenever ago and Michael couldn't even remember his name.

"What are you even doing here?" Castiel growls suddenly.

Dean puts a foot down on the road, dropping the board abruptly flat and just looks at him. For a second, he thinks he might have actually seen some hurt in those bright green eyes and fleetingly regrets taking it out on Dean.

"Yeah. What am I friggin' doing here?" He shakes his head and rolls off in the opposite direction.

Castiel bites his cheek, trying to understand the confusing mix of contrition and relief. Finally, he resolutely talks himself out of feeling bad. He never invited Dean to share his trip home anyway. He reserved every right to be sullen in peace. Alone once more, he adjusts his messenger bag strap across his chest and continues on his path home, trying to put the other boy out of his mind.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**FYI: I picture Michael as young John Winchester/Matt Cohen.**

**I apologize for those of you wanting more Skirts and Ties. I'm not in a great headspace for adding to that story at the moment. I just needed to write something so I actually start writing again.. so here you go. Fair Warning, I might be a little rusty.**


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: There's texting in the chapter. Castiel's are in italics.

* * *

"_Home late. Picked up an extra shift at the hospital. Leftover potroast from last night in the fridge. Love you – Mom."_

Tossing down the note, Castiel bypasses the fridge without a second glance and grabs a packet of chocolate poptarts off the counter. As he steps through his bedroom door, he feels his phone vibrate once in his slacks pocket. Dropping his messenger bag by the door, Castiel pulls it out to see he has a text from Charlie. He sits on the bed and unwraps his dinner before looking back down at his phone.

**how'd it go with your stalkee?**

_**It was just studying. **_

**nothin more exciting? **

A second later a series of quick texts follow.

**no spontaneous boy kissing? **

**under the table footsie? **

**have u tried winking?**

**nvm… i've seen u try to wink**

Castiel rolls his eyes and reluctantly smiles at her teasing. He begins to type out 'Speaking of stalking, Dean stalked me home' before backspacing and deleting it. He felt a momentary stab of guilt over the memory and telling Charlie he'd snapped at her friend probably wouldn't earn him any brownie points. Before he can think of a neutral response, he gets another message from her.

**well forget ur head over heels for a straight guy for a while and come over **

He considers it for a second.

**dory's bringing doritos? wii mario kart? saving the princess? **

Then he doesn't have to think about it anymore.

_**I have an english essay to write. Have fun. **_

He can't sit across from them being cute. Not today. If he has to watch one of their pinching fights, tickling battles or exchange of those soft glances, he just might be sick. They deserve to be disgustingly adorable together without his sour mood bringing them down.

**ur loss, Goomba =)**

Castiel ignores his books and eats the rest of his poptart lying down on his back with a hand behind his head. He replays the whole half hour he shared with Michael like one of those crime forensics experts would on tv. As if he's searching for hidden clues in the corners of his memory. Closing his eyes, he focuses on every time Michael leaned forward so he could show him how he'd arrived at the answer for a particular equation. Every upturn of lips, that one quiet laugh he made, it all makes Castiel smile just thinking about it. For a while, he can forget Michael only knows he exists because he does his math homework for him. For a while, he can imagine more.

Sadly, after only a few moments of this, Dean intrudes into his memories. Castiel huffs and opens his eyes, staring at his ceiling. He refuses to feel bad. He probably imagined that flash of hurt on his stupid face. Unwillingly he begins to half-heartedly compare Dean with Michael. Dean's cheeks were dusted in light brown scruff as opposed to Michael's clean-shaven look. He couldn't fault him on that alone since his own cheeks were always a little scratchy no matter how often he shaved. He absently ran a thumb over his cheek trying to picture it smooth as Michael's then his mind put Dean there as well as if to say 'fair is fair if we're comparing'.

Sighing, Castiel drops his hand and leans forward to get his books. He won't feel bad. Dean will just be his normal annoying ever-playful self tomorrow and he'll have to deal with it all over again.

But he doesn't see Dean the next day. He doesn't even realize it until almost the end of lunch when the warning bell rings and he breaks away from watching the footballers walk off the field to look back towards the school. Dean didn't show up.

He doesn't comment on it to Charlie and she doesn't mention it either. It was nice to have a lunch without his abrasive presence for once anyway. Even if the reminder of how he left yesterday gives him a niggling feeling in the pit of his stomach, he firmly pushes it down.

The next day he notices sooner. Charlie's mid story about how she's pitching doing her English paper on the obvious oppression of the munchkins in The Wizard of Oz when he abruptly interrupts her.

"And I mean, hello? Forced to sing on command? It's totally-"

"Is Dean at school today?"

"Huh?"

"Is he sick? I haven't seen him."

"Oh, I think he's been hanging out in the courtyard with some friends. He said 'hey' on my way out here."

Cas nods. That niggling feeling is back and he tosses down his untouched Cuban.

"Why?" she turns to him.

"No reason."

She squints at him. "Your foreheads going all broody."

"Broody?" Castiel repeats with a raised eyebrow, not even seeing the players his eyes are on.

"Yeah. You're approaching Angel-level broodiness."

"Who?" Unwillingly, he remembers Dean's comment about his name. Right before he had yelled at him.

"From Buffy? Badass vampire slayer?" Charlie strikes a pose with her plastic fork like she's about to stab him in the heart with it.

He shakes his head.

"Oh come on. Who hasn't seen Buffy?"

"I'm sure a great many people." He pretends to focus on straightening his tie. "It's just… Dean has been showing up at lunch uninvited for over a month. I'm surprised is all."

Charlie shrugs like its nothing. "Isn't that what you wanted? Him to 'play hacky sack with the other glassy-eyed degenerates'." She quotes with a deep voice and sarcastic little smile.

Castiel screws up his face in thought. The idea that Dean had stopped coming because of him didn't sit well.

"Anyhoo.. Thursday huh? Excited to beat some knowledge into that boy's thick head?" She lifts her chin towards the players.

Castiel shakes his head to try and clear it of Dean. If he had finally succeeded in getting the point across to Dean, then good. Great. All they did was argue. And Charlie's right. It was what he wanted. So why is it still bothering him?

"Yes," he says, distractedly.

* * *

"So I run 70 yards and it was perfect. Benny let her go and I just knew I was gonna-"

"Uh huh."

Castiel stares at the equation he stopped writing over a minute ago, completely unaware he'd zoned out somewhere in the middle of Michael's rendition of last week's game.

"Hey. You listenin', man?"

"Oh, sorry." He clears his throat and straightens up a little. "I was preoccupied. Please go on."

"Eh, it's alright. Guess football's not all the interesting to someone like you, huh?"

Castiel's forehead furrows as he asks, "Someone like me?"

"Just.. you're so…" Michael gestures vaguely up and down in his direction. Castiel looks down at his own self as if there on his chest is the answer.

"Smart and all but kinda uptight.. I guess?"

He tilts his head, trying to beat down the wave of nausea. "Uptight," Cas repeats mechanically before glancing back down to the paper to pretend he's focused on useless math he'll never need.

"Yeah. It's like Jesus man, wear some jeans or something once in a while. Lose the tie. Loosen up."

After a second more, he pushes down the automatic feeling of insult and looks back up. This doesn't have to be a bad thing. Michael has noticed him enough to comment on his appearance. Give him input. Castiel swallows his nerves and asks, "you think I should? Wear jeans, I mean?"

Michael shrugs. "Up to you." He does a long languid stretch with arms over his head that has Castiel forgetting the sting from a few seconds ago and moving his thoughts firmly in another direction. Michael turns back quick enough to catch him openly staring and only raises an eyebrow without looking away.

His cheeks are almost definitely pink but he doesn't break eye contact. "Okay, maybe I will."

Michael casually glances at the library clock. "Ah shit." He gets to his feet and grabs his book up hurriedly along with the work Castiel had previously done for him.

"In a rush?" He asks getting to his feet too. A little confused about what had happened or if he'd imagined it.

"Yeah gotta meet pick up Shauna." He salutes with a finger to his temple. Castiel frowns and watches, surprised when he stops after a only step as if he forgot something. Turning on his heel he casually asks, "But hey, I meant to ask, there's that test coming up next week…"

"Oh well if you study over the notes I gave you, I'm sure there won't be an issue with-"

"Yeah but see I'm not so sure."

Castiel tilts his head in question.

"Think I might need some extra help. Maybe tomorrow?

His mouth drops open just a little at that. "Um... Tomorrow?" he repeats dumbly.

Michael acts like he's mulling it around. "Yeah tomorrow. After school. Meet me at the locker room? Practice's cancelled. Think coach got a hot date with that Spanish teacher that always wears those tight little skirts.

"Ms. Sepulveda," he offers automatically, brain still frozen on anything else to say.

"Yeah anyway think he's hoping to see her bilingual skills in action."

Castiel just stares as Michael starts walking backwards.

"I'll bring the notes!" he finally calls, happy he at least got something out of his too slow mouth.

Michael just shrugs and smirks. "If you want."

And he's out the door leaving Castiel slowly lowering back into his chair, world tilted a little.

Did that just happen?

He sits there until the tired looking librarian tells him she needs to lock the doors.

He won't tell Charlie. This is his secret. His own amazing secret. And maybe he imagined the implication anyway. Is that possible? That must be it. They can't be meeting tomorrow. Alone. They just can't be happening. This is one of his daytime fantasies and he'll snap out of it soon because someone like Michael couldn't possibly be interested in him. What might happen? What would he say or do or- or...

Castiel barely sleeps but he definitely dreams. With his eyes closed and his mind reeling with possibilities, he relieves the tension with his hand twice until finally he passes out in a sweaty mess on top of his covers.

That morning, he should be tired but he's practically buzzing with nervous energy. He spends twenty minutes and a good amount of hair gel trying to tame his crazy hair into lying flat. Then Castiel moves on to digging at the bottom of his drawers and finds an old pair of jeans Gabriel made him buy to go out with him to a party once he absolutely did not want to go to. They still fit, maybe slung a little low on his hips but they'll do. He goes across the hall to Gabriel's old room and raids his closet for a shirt. He was away at college (hopefully soaking in a little of the higher knowledge he was supposed to be there for) and he left a lot of clothes here for when he infrequently made a trip home.

Stepping over the clutter that always seemed to accumulate even when he wasn't here, Castiel surveys his choices. His instinct is to go for a long-sleeved dark green polo but he puts it back in favor of a blue short-sleeved tshirt with some fake vintage café logo on the front. Once it's on, he stares at his pale arms in the mirror for several seconds. When he tilts his left to bare his inner arm, he can just see the barely there scars that look sporadic. Not uniform to give anything away, but random spots that anyone could have. His inner arm is his favorite spot but it's been a while so the marks are only really visible if you knew where to look. Still he felt a wave of self-consciousness make him shift his weight before he caught himself doing it. He couldn't let that awkwardness take over. Not today. He straightens, tugging at the bottom of the tshirt one last time and heads out of his brother's room.

Surprisingly his mom was up and in the kitchen sipping coffee.

"You're awake," he observes, going to the freezer to grab the Eggos.

"Well good morning to you too." She hugs him from behind and kisses the back of his head. "I have to go in for a bit this morning to finish up some paperwork then I'll get to catch up on sleep before church tonight."

He nods, popping a frozen waffle in the toaster and waiting. He fidgets under her scrutiny but she doesn't comment on his choice of clothing.

"Your uncle will be speaking tonight. I'm sure everyone would love to see you..."

He doesn't turn around from watching the toaster toast. He'd dodged going back to church for several months now. His mom was fully aware he was gay but didn't want him to mention it around his church friends. And especially not his Uncle. She said she loved him no matter what but they might not understand. It made him feel like he was hiding and maybe made him recent her just a little.

"I might be home late today, Mom," he hedges.

"Why?"

His breakfast pops up and he grabs it gingerly, turning to face her. "Studying. With a friend."

"Charlie?"

"No, another friend."

"Oh." She smiles with her teeth, making it painfully obvious she didn't think he had any other friends. "Have fun then. Don't be home too late."

He gives her a small smile back, and even goes to give her a kiss on the cheek as he grabs his bag up and takes his Eggo to eat dry on the way to the bus.

* * *

"Whoa."

"What?" he asks, guiltily.

"Look at you." Charlie takes in his appearance, slowly circling.

"What about it?" Castiel tugs on his short sleeve anxiously. "Do I not look okay?"

"No you look great. Different. But great."

He all but beams. "Thank you. You know I value your opinion above all others."

Charlie's eyebrows raise comically high at his almost chipper mood so he scurries away to his first class before she can start needling him on his sudden change in appearance.

That day marks the third lunch Dean doesn't show and he resolves to fix that. He feels too good to have any fleeting feelings of guilt bringing him down. Leaving five minutes early from the bleachers with an excuse to Charlie, he finds him. Dean was in a corner of the courtyard, smiling and talking in the circle of a bunch of friends that all seem to be trying their very best to stand out and flaunt their teenage rebellion. Guys with baggy jeans or shorts to their knees and socks up to their shorts. A few girls mixed in, tight pants held up with pyramid studded belts and matching accessories. Some have piercings winking in the sun. Shaggy hair, dreads, two or three with bright unnatural colors. He can't help thinking they're a little like colorful fish. Dean almost looks normal in comparison with his shorter hair and faded shirt, baggy jeans combo but still he fits in seamlessly, looking comfortable in his element. Castiel hesitates, but thankfully, with the ring of the first warning bell signally next lunch, they all disperse. Dean's hauling on his book bag, his ever-present skateboard must be in his locker, when walks up to him before he too can leave.

"Dean."

His eyes flick up briefly before he flips his bookbag around to unzip and dig for something.

"Yeah?"

"I was... abrupt the other day."

Dean laughs without humor. "Just the other day?"

Exhaling through his nose, Castiel allows, "In general, then."

Dean's head is still bent as he pulls out a textbook and rezips his bag. "So this your apology?"

"I never said I was apologizing."

"Good because you're doing a crap job of it."

Castiel clenches his jaw and takes another calming breath. It was too easy to get pulled into their usual back and forth and that wouldn't accomplish anything.

"I apologize."

Dean finally makes eye contact, raising one cocky eyebrow.

The irritation over that familiar smug expression Dean's wearing falls away for a second. The light happens to be making his skin almost glow and Castiel's surprised to be seeing freckles he never paid attention to or cared to.

"You have freckles," Castiel says out of nowhere.

Eyebrows arching in mild surprise, Dean asks a little defensively, "Yeah, Captain Obvious, I do. That a problem?"

"No." Castiel cocks his head slightly with a little frown. With the afternoon sun hitting that light brown scruff it looks almost golden, freckles popping out everywhere now under his gaze. And he has to admit, Dean's eyes are actually a very pretty green. Castiel suddenly blushes for some absurd reason. When he realizes what he's been doing, he glances away and adds, "They suit you."

Dean is grinning when he turns back as if he somehow could see into his head and know what he'd been thinking. Looking much more receptive, Dean sits then, straddling the stone bench before raising one leg up to hook an arm around it and look completely comfortable.

"So jeans, huh?" He says, conversationally. "Didn't think you owned any. Something wrong with your usual uniform?"

"No. Today I felt like dressing like this." Castiel lifts his chin defensively and tries not to shift his weight. Dean does a once over and he squirms a little anyway, picking at an invisible speck on his t-shirt hem.

"Dude. I wouldn't have believed it but you looked more comfortable in the monkey suit."

"I'll get used to it. I'm just trying something new."

"Uh huh." Dean looks over to the group of familiar popular kids he hadn't even realized had gathered. "This something new wouldn't have anything to do with a dumbass jock would it?"

"He's not a dumbass," he immediately jumps to his defense.

"Sure, Cas. So you still chasing after that?"

With the mention of him, Castiel covertly darts a glance over at Michael's table. It's his lunch period, Castiel's having just ended. He should get moving to his next class before the final bell makes him tardy but it's like he's suspended in place. Anxiety and excitement begin to bubble at the thought of later. Would Michael kiss him? Had he misread everything? His arms feel exposed and he keeps going to tug on the sleeves but they're not there. What if they kept meeting? Secretly. Maybe it'd start out kissing and then eventually move on to other things. He knew the mechanics but would Michael? Had he done this before? Would he want to lead or… or was Castiel supposed to? He probably misunderstood the whole thing anyway. Little zings of apprehension shoot through him at the thought of actually being naked and sweaty underneath him but Michael would make it okay.

He watches Shauna jump into Michael's lap and wind her arms around his neck. He turns away before he can see them kiss.

What was he doing?

Castiel presses his lips hard but when he remembers Dean and turns back to him, his face isn't mocking or teasing. There's concern or something else he can't guess at around his eyes and Castiel lowers his own out of shame.

Dean gets to his feet, shouldering his bag and carrying his lone book under his arm.

"Just take care of yourself, man. Guy's not worth it."

"You don't know what you're talking about," he can't help biting out.

When Castiel sees Michael's eyes connect with his briefly, he lifts his arm in waving but Michael either doesn't see it or pretends not to. One of friends does unfortunately. A huge lumbering barrel-chested boy in a bright red letterman jacket yells, "Ay! See something you like, sweetheart?!" He grabs his crotch in his beefy hand while another one behind him catches on and starts whistling. "Ow ow oooowww!"

The cluster of girls nearby laugh along with Michael who shoves the one who started it playfully and they all descend into headlocks and manly wrestling.

"Yep. Guess not." Dean cuffs him on the shoulder as he walks on to his next class. Castiel watches him go.

The rest of the day is a panic-infused blur. By the last bell, Castiel's so nervous he worries he might throw up and wouldn't that just be perfect. At the last minute, he stops by his locker to grabs all the Trig notes on the off chance he misunderstood everything.

"Hey!" Charlie pops up next to him at his locker making him almost jump a foot in the air.

"Oh," he clutches his chest, trying to remember how to breathe.

"Whoa, guilty conscious?" She pokes him in the ribs.

He just smiles with strain in response.

"Wanna hang out later? I have the second season of Downton Abbey recorded…" She sing songs enticingly.

"Um.."

"You'll even get treated to my best fake British accent, my good man."

"Maybe. I'll uh text you later, okay?"

She narrows her eyes at his infrequent eye contact.

"You ok?"

"What? Yes." He slams his locker.

"You sure? Because you're being weird."

"Weird?" His voice was an octave too high and he damned it viciously inside his head.

"Yeah weird," she says more firmly.

"Charlie, I have to go. I'll text you later."

"You're dressing different. Being all avoidy."

He already felt like he was going to jump out of his skin and he didn't need her being her quizzing him right now.

"I just wanted to dress differently today okay?!"

Charlie just stares at him, eyes a little too wide. "Okay," she says softly.

Damnit. He sighs and turns towards her. "Charlie..."

But she has a fake smile plastered on and backups first. "No it's fine. Um, see you later."

Watching her leave, Castiel blows out a heavy breath. He would fix that. He would. Later. When it didn't feel like butterflies started a fight club in his stomach.

He tightens a hand on the strap of his bag that crosses his chest and heads towards the back of the school. Kids bump his shoulders on either side, eager to start their weekend but he barely registers it. He has tunnel-vision.

Would he kiss him? Hard and hot up against a wall. Or be shy? Was it his first time kissing a guy? Endless questions and he realized he never thought Michael would ever be into him. He was just someone to put on a pedestal and worship from afar but now he was actually real. And wanted to meet up with Castiel. Secretly but still. Wasn't that more exciting anyway? A secret gay teen romance. Seventeen magazine, eat your heart out.

Taking several deep breaths, Castiel tries to smooth down his hair one last time and pulls open the locker-room door. It's heavy. Or maybe he's just about to fall over from nerves and his arms are betraying him.

He's never been in here but it looks pretty much like what he expected it to. Tiled walls. Rows of lockers and cabinets with equipment. Another doorway that presumably leads to a communal shower. He takes several tentative steps forward.

"Michael?"

His voice bounces off the walls making him wince.

"Hey. You showed," he rounds a corner.

"Yes… "

He smiles shyly and steps forward, licking his dry lips. He doesn't know what to do, should he just go for it? Try to kiss him? But Michael just steps back and sits down on the bench. Castiel frowns and looks down at him, moving to sitt beside him warily. Michael smiles that smile that flips his stomach. After a second, he leans back and gestures to his lap. His jeans are as ever perfectly ironed.

"Well?"

"Um... What?"

"You gonna suck me off or what?"

Cas almost chokes on his own saliva. "Pardon?" He's probably opening his mouth and closing it like a stupid fish. "I… "

Michael gives him a raised eyebrow and a 'what are you waiting for' look.

"Oh you want- So you _are_... um..."

Yeah he's apparently definitely gay. Or at least willing to do .. Gay things. Or have gay things done to him. Castiel almost laughs when he has a fleeting thought that he can tell Charlie how wrong she was.

Michael sighs and starts unzipping. "Do you need an invitation? Geez, thought you'd be all over me."

Castiel had kinda hoped to like kiss a little or something. Not just jump to… that.

Suddenly Michael's dick is out and he's cuffing the back of his neck and pulling him closer.

"Just open your mouth and I'll do the rest..."

Cas almost lets it happen. He wants this right? He asked for this.

At the last second, he jerks out from under that big hand and falls backwards on his butt on hard unforgiving tile.

"What the fuck?" the other boy sighs impatiently. "Are you one of those twinks that gets off on being a cocktease or something? I thought you were cool."

Cas swallows hard. Apparently cool meant blowing him in the locker room. Frowning, he tries to salvage this.

"Can we uh maybe talk or something first? I just... this is a little fast."

"Yeah I got friends I can talk to. That's not what you're here to do. Now seriously I'm blue-balling. Get that mouth over here."

His first time wasn't going to be this. A lot of stuff was fucked up with him, but he wasn't far enough gone to do this to himself.

"No thank you."

"What?"

He looked a little ridiculous now holding his dick in his hand with this disbelieving look on his face like he couldn't believe he was getting denied.

"I said no. Thank you." Castiel got to his feet with Michael scrabbling behind him buttoning his pants.

"You little faggot."

Michael balls his hand in Gabriel's t-shirt and slams him back against the lockers, head hitting painfully. Through the throbbing in the back of his skull, he sees an ugly sneer fall over the face in front of him that he'd dreamed about so often.

"Fine. Whatever. Your fuckin' loss, freak." He slams him back once more time and Castiel's bites his lip so he doesn't cry out. "But you even think of telling anyone, you little bitch, I'll make you wish you were fucking dead."

Michael punches him in the gut, right where all the butterflies had been swarming, and all the wind goes out of him. Cas doubles over eyes watering as Michael stomps out the door.

After laying there for several minutes, he makes it outside to back of school and decides here is as good a place as any. Throwing his bag down carelessly, Castiel slides down the brick wall until he's back on the ground and wraps his arms around his bent knees. He rubs his hands over his face, over and over, hating the stinging in his eyes.

Anger over his own pathetic hopes tears into him. What had he expected? What stupid fantasy was he hoping for? That they'd go to Prom and kiss on the school steps?! What the fuck was wrong with him?

Memories of Michael's smile morphing into that sneer loop in his mind to torture him. Castiel grits his teeth and fists his hands in his gel-flattened hair and god he wishes for something sharp. Instead he digs his nails into the soft pale skin of his inner arm. The skin raises like he's seen a hundred times but it's not enough. Not even close. After another series of long desperate scratches, he has to stop because someone's coming. He quickly folds his arms and tucks his head close to his chest. He needs his coat. Sleeves. Then he can continue. Damnit he left it at home. Why hadn't he brought it at least? He hadn't had a day like today in so long. Hadn't brought it because Michael said loosen up and it'd been forever and now...

Cas doesn't look up but the footsteps stop near him. After a second, they begin to move on but before he can breathe out they hesitate again. Then they come back to right in front of him.

"Hey, Cas."

Damnit. This has to be a cosmic joke. The one person in the world he would never have wanted to see right now-

"Dean."

Castiel stares at his Vans, being rude but not caring with the bubble of dark thoughts he's surrounded by. Go. Go please. Go now. Fucking go.

His vision is a watery blur and his head's throbbing dully.

He needs _more_ because he can still think and the anger and helplessness are still pressing at his insides trying to get out. So he needs Dean to fucking go.

Instead without any encouragement, Dean sits down beside him against the wall with crossed legs.

"So whatcha doing here?"

School was out by now. It probably did look odd him sniffling against a wall. He quickly reached up to wipe at his face for any stray wetness like he could erase it.

Dean doesn't comment or ask anything else which is something. It's just quiet until Cas looks over to see he's staring at the angry red raised skin on his inner arm.

Cas folds his arms again, face flaming. Damnit. Damn Dean. Damn Michael. Damn him and his imbecilic expectations. He's wrapped in a bitter numb embarrassment that knows no end. What was Dean thinking? What conclusions was he drawing? What will he say-

"Wanna ride?"

Castiel turns to him abruptly, sniffing once. "What?"

He was expecting some awkward question about what he'd seen but instead Dean seemed not affected.

"Just uh... you're here and the buses already left, right? I got my Baby back... in the Juniors lot. Wanna ride?"

"I'm… " he hesitates, mind struggling to change gears. "I can't go home yet."

He told his mom he wouldn't be home till later and if he came in now, she'd ask what happened. She can't pretend everything's fine in their little corner of the world if he comes in sniffling... He needed more time to compose himself.

"No prob, man. I'm going to the skate park if you wanna tag along." Thinking better on it like he remembered Cas' disdain for skating he adds, "or whatever. We could go uh wherever. Somewhere else."

"No. That's fine."

Dean looks surprised but nods. "Cool. I just gotta pick up my little bro, Sam on the way."

He offers Castiel a hand up and Cas takes it, taking one last swipe under his eyes for good measure. They were probably red and puffy but it's the best he could do. Dean's biting his lip when he looks back at him, but just smiles tightly when he sees he has his attention again. Castiel doesn't know what to make of Dean anymore. Why was he being so nice to him? Because he was a sniveling mess? Most people would avoid that like the plague. He processes the last part finally. Everything seems a second or two behind at the moment.

"Oh your brother? I - nevermind. I'll just walk." He looks down self-consciously at his wrecked arms.

Dean frowns but notices him fidgeting with his arms, clasping his wrist behind his back as if to make them less obvious.

Without a word he removes his flannel, revealing a black tshirt with a triangle design and 'Dark Side of the Moon' emblazoned across it.

"Here." He hands it over and Castiel barely flicks his eyes up before taking it.

He stares at it in his hands for a moment, feeling a hard lump in his throat. "Thank you, Dean."

* * *

Author's Note: Thank you for my feedback, darlings. It does wonders for my motivation. I'm sorry if this wasn't a fun chapter. I promise next one will be a lot less angsty.


	3. Chapter 3

He follows Dean out to a black muscle car. Predictably, it growls loudly as it starts up. The doors are heavy and loud when they close like new cars aren't.

He lets Dean fill the silence all he wants without his help. Castiel half pays attention to some story about whatever band he's popping in the cassette for. A _cassette_. If it was any other time he'd make a comment but he doesn't. Instead he stays tense, waiting for him to ask. But he doesn't. That's something. Dean just keeps going on talking like everything is normal. Like he hadn't found him crying. Like he hadn't seen his arms. Like it isn't the only reason he's sitting in his car right now.

The music starts and Dean stops talking. It's a little chaotic for his taste. Too loud but he doesn't mind. It helps. The singer is angry and so is he. He lets it fill the space between his ears and thump through him like a heartbeat.

Dean pulls up next to a curb at a Jackson Junior High and a surprisingly tall boy with a mop of brown hair reaches for his door. He pauses when he sees Castiel already in the passenger seat, then moves to the back instead.

"Hey," he says as he shuts the door.

"Sammy, this is Cas. Cas, Sammy."

"Cas?" He looks at Dean, Castiel, then waits a beat and shifts his eyes back to Dean with a slow almost evil grin. "Ohhh _Cas_!"

"Yes?" Castiel asks, feeling like he was missing something. Dean rolls the car forward then abruptly pumps the brakes so his brother careens into the front seat.

"Seatbelt," he barks, glaring meaningfully at the rearview mirror. Sam just smirks and buckles up.

"It's just Sam by the way," he says to him and gives a half-hearted wave while digging inbetween the seats to find where the seatbelt is wedged.

"Hello," Castiel offers back. It's all he can give right now. He should have walked. He could be home right now instead of having to be polite to someone's little brother. Maybe he could have slipped past his mom. He could be alone in his room. He could be-

But Dean turns up the music again. Drums, Bass, frantic electric guitar notes screeching and he can't think. That's good. He doesn't want to think anyway.

They arrive at their destination in less than ten minutes. Castiel sets off to follow Dean again silently when Sam motions back at the car.

"Something wrong with your board?"

"Nah. Don't need it today."

Sam gives him a disbelieving look but Dean's walking so Castiel shoulders his bag and follows, not really caring what they do.

They find a low cement wall, covered in neon green, pink and blue graffiti that encircles the activity about 4 feet high. Sam sits several feet away laying out a text book in front of him. Dean straddles the wall, facing a cross-legged Castiel but angled towards the skaters. He takes in the collection of ramps at odd angles and different heights, craters in the ground that look a little like huge empty swimming pools. Several guys and a girl are busy chasing and flipping and racing up curves that point toward the sky to hoots and hollers of on-lookers. Castiel doesn't know how they don't crash into each other but they seem to have it worked out so none of them approach the same ramp at anytime.

As one exits another enters and so on. It's kind of mesmerizing. He stares and tries to not think. He imagines it like pressing pause on all the twisting hurt inside him until he's finally alone. Dean's quiet too. He feels him occasionally sliding glances his way but ignores it. If Dean's going to start asking questions, he doesn't want it to be with his younger brother as an audience.

A guy with long hair whacked short in the front and the sleeves of his shirt cut off, exits smoothly from the cement dip nearest them and strides towards Dean with his skateboard under an arm. Castiel recognizes him as someone he's seen in the halls at school. He thinks his name is Ash.

"Yo Winchester, Sup? Gonna get off your lazy butt anytime soon?"

"Not today, man. I'll catch ya tomorrow."

The other guy accepts that easily with a head nod. "Cool. Later."

Dean returns the nod. When he glances back this time, Castiel is actually looking at him.

"You can go. I don't need a chaperone."

"Maybe I do." Dean smiles charmingly. Castiel doesn't so Dean just shrugs. "I do this like every day. It ain't a big deal."

Seeing Castiel is about to argue, Dean suddenly asks, "What's your favorite book?"

"What?" He's thrown for a second. "Why?"

"Just curious. Your nose is always buried in one half the time. You got a favorite?"

Vaguely annoyed at having to actually concentrate on a response, he answers, "That's a complicated question."

"Not really."

"It is. How do you pick one favorite?"

"Sammy!" Dean calls behind him without turning to face his brother. "What's your favorite book?"

"Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban," comes the immediate and distracted response.

"See?" Dean points his thumb back over his shoulder. "Easy. "

Castiel shifts a little towards Dean, reluctantly warming to the topic. "It's hardly easy. From your entire life? Just one? And from when do you pick it? Your favorite book as a child or now? Favorite to re-read? My favorite could change with my mood even."

Looking like he's trying to hold in a laugh, Dean tries, "Gun to your head, you gotta pick one, what would it be?"

"That's ridiculous. Why would anyone ask me at gun point what my favorite book was?"

Dean shakes his head in exasperation. "He's a crazy gunman, just humor him."

"Obviously. Acting so irrationally will get him apprehended way before I have time to think of how to answer his question."

"Okay, Jesus, tell me a recent favorite then."

Castiel exhales through his nose and thinks. Impulsively, he actually tells him. Any other time he wouldn't even be having this odd conversation and it's not like Dean would even have heard of it.

"Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe."

"Sounds like a chick book."

Castiel just sighs and looks back to the skaters.

"So, tell me about it."

"You wouldn't like it."

"Not for nothing, Cas, but you know crap about what I like," Dean points out and he has to admit he doesn't.

But of course he's stubborn, so he retorts, "No, I know you like loud music, loud cars and gambling your life on your ability to balance on a piece of light-weight wood."

Dean snickers. "Yeah, but do you know my favorite book?"

Castiel rolls his eyes but surprisingly the corner of his mouth pulls up against his will and he turns away to cover it.

After a few minutes of silence, Dean asks, "hungry?" He points out the taco truck parked off in a lot near the road a good distance away. Castiel honestly couldn't imagine eating right now but Dean looks so eager.

"Sure."

He unzips his bag to find his wallet but Dean waves him off. "Don't worry about it. They're really cheap. Sam?"

"Yeah," he confirms he wants some without taking his eyes off the textbook.

And Dean is off without asking what he wants or taking money.

Castiel slowly puts back his wallet, examining the not-so-little brother that is now visible with Dean no longer blocking his view. Sam continues his homework, chewing the end of his pencil idly. It's quiet besides the roll and scrap of wheels. With Dean gone, he starts to notice the burning throb from his arms and the miserable anger starts to leak back in. For over a minute, he clenches and unclenches his fist to try and distract himself, but that turns to cracking his knuckles with his thumb too quick. Desperate for anything to focus on, Castiel finally asks, "Why did you say my name like that? Before."

Sam pencil stops but keeps his eyes on the page. After a brief glance up, he goes back to writing but casually answers, "Dean mighta talked about you once or twice."

"Me?" He must be mistaken. "Why?" Then he changes it to, "what did he say?"

"Just that you were one of Charlie's friends." Castiel nods. That made sense he supposes. Sam smirks to himself before adding, "And that you'd argue with a brick wall."

That sounded more like what he expected... But the way Sam was smiling fondly confused him. "That doesn't sound like a good thing."

Sam shrugs. "Must be to Dean."

Castiel wanted to ask more about that, but Dean was within sight again. He is soon handing him a white wrapped burrito. "Chicken okay?"

"Yes... thank you." He watches Dean, trying to figure him out while he hands another wrap to Sam who grunts his thanks in turn.

Even though he has to force down the first few tentative bites, once his stomach stops rolling, Castiel realizes he hasn't eaten all day from nerves. After it's half gone and his stomach feels a bit less hollow, it even makes him feel better. Not that he really wanted to feel better. He didn't deserve to it but despite everything Castiel had to admit, before he got in Dean's car he'd felt a whole lot worse.

Almost an hour later, they're dropping Sam off because it was apparently closer than Castiel's house. Dean lives in a small red and brown bungalow he barely gets a look at before Sam is waving goodbye and they were growling down the road again. On the way, they listen to another tape Dean dug out of the glovebox. He changes it up from hard rock to classic. As it fills the interior of the car, Castiel thinks it sounds more like what his mom might listen to. Normally he wouldn't even give it a second thought, then he notices Dean humming under his breath. He can tell by the way Dean taps along with it on the steering wheel, it's a favorite. It's surprising this is also Dean's type of music, but a lot of stuff about Dean has surprised him today.

The next song is slower, strings plucking gently as they turn onto his street. A flute begins to play over top of it making it sound a little sad but beautiful. Castiel stares at the radio until Dean turns the knob down and he realizes they're stopped outside his house.

"I like that one."

"Stairway to Heaven, man... You never heard it before?"

"No." And he's kind of wishing he could listen to more of it. "It's pretty."

"Pretty?" Dean looks surprised like he never considered that then nods. "Yeah I guess it is."

After a second of silence, Cas starts the words that'll end with him getting out of the car. "Thank you, Dean. For today. You didn't have to."

Dean actually looks like he's blushing. It makes his freckles stand out in a not entirely unappealing way.

"Dude, it was nothing. No need to get all choked up over it."

"I wasn't…" Castiel almost yells before he forces himself to calm again and not fall into his default defensive state with Dean. "I know you saw me crying but you don't have to hold it over me."

"Jeez, Cas." Dean ran a hand through his hair and rolled his eyes. "I wasn't even thinking about earlier or tryin' to make you feel bad or something. How much of a dick do you think I am?"

Cas frowns looking down at his hands, half-covered by green flannel, then back to Dean again. "You never asked why. Aren't you curious?"

"Sure. But it's your business and I'm not gonna push or whatever. Don't figure you trust me like that."

Castiel took that as Dean didn't care. Of course, why would he care? Which was good, he didn't want to talk about it anyway, really. They weren't friends or anything. Not really. He probably wouldn't even tell Charlie. He'd keep it inside to roll and fester, like a perversion of the secret meeting he was so quick not to tell her about either. Charlie. Another thing that he fucked up. Everything was shit and he felt so damn disconnected from anyone that would care. Why should Dean? Despite showing a little kindness and babysitting him for an afternoon, he just felt obligated.

"Okay."

Cas turns to go, a little disappointed but this whole godforsaken day had been one horrible disappointment. Dean grabs his arm to stop him, and he slowly turns back, looking from the hand on his bicep to Dean's face with very little welcome. He feels the coldness slip over his face like a mask making it harsh.

"That doesn't mean I don't wanna know if you wanna tell me."

Then Dean releases him. Castiel quickly opens the door and gets so far as a foot on pavement. After hesitating long enough to find his bedroom window with his eyes, he pulls back inside the car and shuts the door.

He's quiet, just staring ahead out the windshield. Dean's car cool ticks. He probably wants to go. Get out of his car. Just go. Just a few more minutes and you can fall apart alone. Alone. Go.

"Tell me what happened."

Dean's gruff voice breaks his thoughts. It isn't a question. More a firm request. Almost an order. Castiel curls his fingers into the jeans he never wanted. He hates the material. It's too stiff.

"So Michael is gay..."

Dean doesn't say anything and he doesn't look over at him.

"Or well, he uh wanted to do stuff at least..."

Castiel darts a glance at Dean who only stares back with an uncharacteristically blank face. He can't gauge a reaction so he just helplessly barrels on.

"And he wanted me to..." He gestures vaguely at his own lap. "But um I got the impression that's all he wanted. Just someone to... "

Cas shrugs, trailing off. Was it really so bad. Had he overreacted? He wanted Michael and then he'd freaked out when he got what he wanted. Maybe he was just a cocktease after all.

He toys with the button on the flannel. Not green like Dean's eyes but a normal calm green.

"I mean what was I expecting I suppose."

He traces the button at the end of the sleeve with his thumb, around and around.

Was he expecting Michael to kiss him tenderly and hold hands and it was just ridiculous now that he thought about it. He'd never even seen two guys together in public. Not in Kansas. Maybe that's how it was for gay men. Secret, shameful, just sex. Hidden away in sordid stolen moments.

This is when Dean will say I told you so. He'd made little comments about Michael before that Castiel had been all too happy to ignore and dismiss. Surely this was Dean's chance and he definitely deserved it. He'd built his crush up in his mind as something so pure and perfect and the truth was always so much more disappointing.

"I'm so pathetic," he whispers softly, rubbing the button like a talisman.

Dean smacks the steering wheel making the horn chirp and startles Castiel into looking at him.

"Don't you fucking do that! That's bullshit!"

He's livid. Dean was one of the most irritatingly laid back people he knew and just now he's angrier than he thought the guy could ever be about anything.

Dean reaches out like he's going to touch his shoulder then stops himself and just balls his fist instead. Pointing his finger at him, he grits out, "What you expect is to be treated with freaking respect. Not just be used as some asshole's dirty secret."

Castiel just stares at him. Why was he so angry? He wasn't scared by the outburst, just surprised.

"Goddamnit!" Dean yells too loud for the exterior of the car making Castiel look around for nearby neighbors on his quiet road.

"Well I didn't do it so... It's really no big deal."

He felt the need to say it. Not that he'd ever cared what Dean thought but for some reason he didn't want him to think that of him.

Dean stops and blows out a heavy breath. "That's good, Cas." Slowly, he turns to him. "You deserve more than that."

Okay this was just getting weird. If you'd told him last week he would both turn down his seemingly straight crush and be comforted by one Dean Winchester all in the same day, he would have never have believed it. And strangely, the other boy's little tirade made him feel better about the whole screwed up thing, even if he would argue he got exactly what he deserved.

"Thank you, Dean."

"Don't have to thank me. It's the truth."

His mother was walking to the mailbox and seemed surprised to see him sitting in an unfamiliar car on the road.

"That's my mom," he says needlessly.

"Yeah, okay. Well... see you Monday then I guess."

Castiel frowns like he's still unsure of their whole interchange but nods in agreement and gets out.

"Don't…" Dean's call after him has Castiel ducking to see him properly through the open window. He's presses his lips like he's deciding whether to finish that. Then just quickly says, "Don't hurt yourself because of this prick. He's not worth it."

Castiel straightens, feeling his face flush. This was the first time he mentioned or acknowledged it. Tugging on the sleeves of Dean's flannel until they're over his fingertips, he curls his fists. It grounds him enough to answer.

"It doesn't work that way."

With that, Castiel turns and walks towards his house.

His mom smiles and he smiles back. When she asks about school he says it was fine. Because he knows she's going to ask, he adds that was his friend that dropped him off. The one he said he would be out with. Everything was great. They had fun. No he wouldn't be going to church. He had a headache. He might just go lay down.

Once he was safe in his room, Castiel takes off the damn flannel and tosses it towards his bed, immediately going to his knees next to it. Bending down, he wedges his hand between one of the flat wooden slats of the bedframe and the mattress. It's there, waiting for him.

Soon it's with relief he's staring down at fading pink skin of his arms. Finally alone.

He carefully unzips the small black kit he'd put together. A pouch of safety pins, 2 disposable razor-blades, a zippo lighter, one slender mini X-Acto knife. He stares at them, one at a time, but doesn't reach for any. The impulse, that desperate need, had faded. It'd been too long.

Castiel grabs one of the razor-blades anyway. He raises the edge several times but never presses it hard enough. His mind keeps replaying the last few hours instead of the sore spot it should be. He's remembering the scrape and roll of wheels on cement, lukewarm chicken burritos, his favorite book, the green flannel that's balled at the corner of his bed. He shakes his head and forces himself to concentrate on before all that. The Locker Room. Michael's smile twisting all wrong. The heavy warm hand he'd dreamed about cuffing the back of his neck. His head slamming into a locker. Castiel grinds his teeth and presses the tip, a small bead of blood wells before he sighs in frustration and just stops.

There was no urgency. If he did it now it, it would just be for the sake of doing it and he didn't really want a scar to remind him of Michael. Despite what he'd told Dean, if he did it now it _would_ be just over that jerk and he was better than that. Maybe. So he wipes the dot of blood away, puts it all back in its case and tucks it back under his bed.

He sits there for a minute, feeling lost on what to do now that his one objective since leaving school wasn't appealing any longer. Finally, Castiel gets up and digs his phone out of his bag. It only takes a minute to find the Stairway to Heaven song on YouTube. Apparently it was a popular one. The notes string up, melancholy and beautiful, just like before. Castiel places it next to the pillow and turns to pick back up the flannel.

He lies on his back, clutching the green material to his stomach while the music soothes some of the jagged edges in his head. He didn't understand why it was comforting, but he took it anyway. The song ends and he plays it again. The third time, he sits up so he can put the flannel back on. He turns his face into the collar and rubs the soft material between thumb and index finger. Dean didn't smell like some expensive aftershave but it was nice. Light. Maybe that Adias spray if he had to guess.

Castiel fell asleep with it surrounding him.

* * *

**Author's Note: I'm sorry for when I make you wait. I'll try to be quicker, my loves.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Been super busy lately, kiddos. I apologize for any errors. I'll endeavor to correct them tomorrow. Also I'm as always sorry to make youu wait yet again but ooh look its extra long. Forgive me, maybe?**

* * *

Castiel spends most of Saturday curled up in his bed with self-pity, bitterness and Dean's shirt for company. His mother checks in on him twice but he just says he's still not feeling well. Technically, it wasn't a lie. She tries to get him to eat something before leaving for work but his appetite is non-existent. Around seven, he gets up to take a shower then puts back on the flannel and its back to bed. Charlie doesn't text or call which he knows is his fault.

By mid-morning Sunday, Castiel makes himself get up. He frowns at the green material next to his pillow where he left it, not knowing what it is about it that makes him feel safe. Dean would definitely think he was ridiculous if he could see him. Or maybe not. He had to admit, Dean hadn't made him feel foolish once on Friday, not that he deserved it. Annoyed at his own stupidity over so many things, Castiel dresses quickly and doesn't look back in its direction again.

He walks the three blocks over and knocks on her door. Anxiety and guilt makes the thirty seconds he waits seem much longer. Charlie's mom answers smiling at him in greeting and calls out to her. He hears loud thudding steps descend and then his best friend is filling the doorway, her mom stepping away presumably for Castiel to enter but he waits not knowing how he'll be received. And yes, Charlie doesn't automatically invite him in like she usually would. Instead she just waits but his mouth feels dry like cotton and he doesn't know what to say first. Seeing him blankly stare at her, Charlie just gives him her toughest chin lift and he's so regretful all of the sudden. The small familiar gesture sends a sharp zing in his chest. After almost a full minute of tense silence, Charlie breaks first, rolling her eyes in exasperation.

"Well if you're here to grovel, I hope you at least brought-"

He quickly moves forward and wraps her in a tight hug.

"Chocolate..." she finishes warily. He surprised her he can tell but she even so she immediately returns it because that's just Charlie.

"Hey you okay?"

They may have only hugged twice in all their friendship and he's holding her too tight. He just wants to feel connected.

"Cas," she says right next to his ear. "What's wrong?"

He shakes his head and releases her. "I just missed you."

She frowns, trying to read his face. "That's all I'm gonna get for now isn't it?"

Castiel shifts his weight, wondering if he should just go back to bed instead of having to talk about this again.

"Well come upstairs. Maybe a certain badass vampire slayer can help?" Charlie smiles hopefully, testing the waters.

He sighs with relief at the suggestion. "I would love nothing more right now." Stepping inside, he lets her tug him along by the wrist up to her room.

It takes three and a half episodes to figure out how to move his tongue again. And even then he doesn't know exactly how to get to the other side of this conversation. How to sound unaffected about someone he had a silly infatuation with actually wanting him… but then not really him. Just his mouth. Cringing at the thought, he shifts noisily in the half-flat purple beanbag he's wedged into and Charlie swivels her computer chair around to face him.

"Now?"

"Just..." He shifts uncomfortably again. "Just keep watching the show." She makes a little impatient noise but faces back towards the television.

His voice is monotone and as emotionless as he can make it while he recounts it all out again in clipped half sentences like he had with Dean but this time adding Michael's ending threat and manhandling.

Charlie swivels back around so quickly she passes him and almost falls out of her chair. Righting herself, she glares down at him and starts calling Michael all sorts of colorful names.

"That douche of a thousand bags!"

"Charlie.."

"That complete butthead!"

Castiel fiddles with the button on his sleeve but it isn't the same as the flannel's he's been rubbing for two days.

"He's… he's that pickle on your burger when you specifically ask for no pickles."

Even though Castiel knows what she's doing, he cracks a small smile and a low chuckle escapes.

"You know, I can totally hack into the school's system-"

He sobers immediately. "No. You can't."

"Oh please. It's easy peasy." She's already opening her laptop, fingers flying over the keys. "Ancient firewall. I'm sure I can slip in and cause all sorts of trouble for Mr. Asshole Ashton."

"Charlie, please. Don't- Don't do anything. I feel like an idiot and I just want to forget about it."

She screws up her face in a pout and closes the laptop. "Aw c'mon. Let me use my powers for good... or maybe evil in this case."

"No. Thank you, but no. Besides, he alluded to hurting me quite a lot if I told anyone," Castiel finishes dryly.

He'd sort of blown that already… telling Dean and now Charlie. Come to think of it, he hadn't thought anything of blurting the whole thing out in Dean's car that day. Thinking of Dean, Castiel tugs on his sleeves cuff, fingers itching for the softer material he'd been using as some kind of pathetic security blanket all weekend.

Charlie notices. "Did you um… are you okay?" She's slightly wincing like she can't bare the answer.

He meets her eyes. "No I didn't have to. Almost but... I didn't." He looks away awkwardly. The scratches hardly counted. They were gone now and it could have been much worse.

Charlie covers his hand with her own. "But that's great, Cas! Right? I mean, that's a really big deal that you didn't... ya know. This didn't set you off?"

Sometimes, like now, he regrets ever telling her about it. It makes him feel so broken, the fragile way her face goes all soft like she's helpless and doesn't know the right thing to say.

"No. I got distracted." He couldn't take credit. "I uh actually bumped into Dean." He clears his throat and a small smile persists on tugging up one side of his mouth.

Charlie straightens. "Oh really?"

"Yes, he drove me home. Well eventually. First we went to this skating park and ate chicken burritos. And talked about books. Oh and I met his brother."

Charlie's staring at him with wide eyes and an open mouth when he stops long enough to look up.

"What?"

She promptly closes it with a click. "Wait, you guys spent more than five minutes together and didn't dissolve into an epic battle of Man of Steel magnitude?"

"I didn't feel much like battling."

Humming, Charlie nods. "And you met Sam too, huh?"

"Yes. He mostly did homework while me and Dean talked." Not that the atmosphere seemed ideal for that. He hadn't wondered at the time but why hadn't Sam gone home instead of going with Dean to the park, something that looked like a normal thing. Surely there were buses he could take. "I take it they're close?"

"Yeah, Dean's kind of a mother hen with him."

He must have a confused look on his face because she bites her lip and continues and little lower. "Dean's dad… well what's a nice word for a drunk?"

"Alcoholic?"

"Too nice."

"Oh." Castiel takes that in. Charlie doesn't mention a mother and he doesn't ask. Her expression looks uncomfortable enough talking about the other boy's family so he doesn't press it. He wouldn't want anyone talking about his family issues either.

"I'm sorry about Friday. Snapping at you."

She waves her hand as if to banish the thought. "I already forgot I was mad at you."

"Still."

"You're allowed one bitch-fit a month so I hope you don't need another one anytime soon."

Ducking his head, he breathes out heavily trying to let go of all the emotional baggage since Friday. If things were alright again with Charlie, he tells himself he can handle whatever Monday brings. "Thanks."

"So are you and Dean gonna braid friendship bracelets together now? I knew you'd be B.F.F.'s if you gave him half a chance."

"Hardly," Castiel says, still not able to stop the faint smile.

As Charlie reaches for the control to start up the vampire that's frozen in a comical mouth twisted expression, he asks, "Charlie… have you ever heard of a song called Stairway to Heaven?"

Grinning, she presses play.

They waste the day polishing off two bags a sour cream and onion chips and almost all of season 1. It's with real regret he has leave in the middle of Buffy finally meeting up with The Master. As villains went, he looked intimidating. Charlie dutifully pauses it there and says they'll pick it up next time he's over.

With the sun setting, Castiel reluctantly drags his feet up his driveway, past his Uncle's grey Nissan. With his hand on the front doorknob, he mentality prepares himself with several rapid deep breathes, then pulls it open.

Sunday dinners are always the same. Roast or ham and his Uncle sitting at the head of the table.

"I noticed you weren't at church, Castiel. Again," his uncle casually says, popping another red potato in his mouth. His smile is like a shark's and just as friendly.

If God existed, Sunday nights were Castiel's trial and tribulation.

"I wonder what could have kept you home this time."

His mother abruptly holds up the basket of rolls. "Bread, Zachariah?"

He shakes his head, laser focus still on Castiel who tries not to squirm. If not for his mother's fretting looks, he wouldn't be half as concerned but her tension was infectious. She hates confrontation and Castiel hates her agitation over it.

"I asked you a question, boy."

"Actually you didn't. You made a statement." He keeps his eyes lowered, pushing peas around his plate.

After a long moment where he could swear he hears the sound of his uncle's grinding teeth, his mom answers for him.

"Cassie hasn't been feeling very good since Friday."

The use of his childhood nickname makes Castiel's nose wrinkle but he keeps quiet hoping if he doesn't draw too much attention they might somehow forget he was there. It was much easier when Gabriel was still living at home. His brother had never missed a chance to incite one of their uncle's disdainful lectures.

"It seems like a chronic medical condition... 'Not feeling good.'" Zachariah continues snidely, drawing each word out with skepticism.

He had no idea what his mother gave as an excuse for his absence to the other people, but apparently she wasn't very imaginative.

"Any idea when this vague and persistent illness will be cured?"

"I couldn't speculate, Uncle," Castiel says, even holding his gaze for a moment before returning to the now unappealing food.

"What's it say in the good book about Pride, Castiel?" Zachariah muses innocently but he knows he's not meant to answer. With a bite to his tone, his uncle quotes, "He who is arrogant in heart is an abomination."

"Please, can we just have a nice dinner?" His mom tries, smiling too big. "I'm sure he just needs some sleep and he'll be back to a hundred percent."

Sighing, his uncle turns to his mother. "What he needs is a strong male presence and a firm hand. You've always coddled him, Sarah, and look at the result."

Castiel clenches his jaw but petulantly stays staring at the peas he's pushed back into a pile. Next he would be bringing up Gabriel's insolent attitude or worse his father. It seemed his uncle's unofficial mission to "guide him on the right path" as he put it. But what was so wrong with him? In the quiet that follows, Castiel fantasizes yelling back that he could be sneaking beer or smoking drugs if he preferred. His uncle acted like missing church was the worst thing in the world.

Seemingly exasperated, Zachariah tells him, "The world is full of sinful temptations, Castiel. You're at a mighty precarious age." Glaring down at the roast he's sawing through, his uncle shakes his head. "And this surly little attitude of yours is evidence of just how susceptible you are." Chewing around a bite of beef, he gestures at him with his fork. "You don't want to end up a man like your father now do you?"

A dark nasty impulse shoots through Castiel to choose that moment to calmly reveal he was gay - two words that would definitely stop this authoritative diatribe he's forced to sit through. Whatever the backlash, it'd be worth it just to punish his uncle for using his father's absence once again as a weapon.

But he's not that brave and his mother looks almost pained at the tension wringing her hands in her lap so Castiel clears his throat and flatly says, "Of course. Forgive me, Uncle."

Zachariah smiles in that condescending way of his that makes Castiel's skin crawl. "Well we will just have to pray for a speedy recovery and I trust, Lord willing… see you next Sunday."

He doesn't answer. Just tunes out the rest of the stilted chatter, mostly his uncle's buoyant voice and counts the minutes until he could escape back to his room.

The next morning, Castiel hits the snooze button too many times and has to rush getting dressed. As he's knotting his tie in front of his mirror, he eyes the flannel in the reflection still on the bed behind him.

Grabbing up his bookbag, he pauses to give it one last glance of indecision before continuing on out the door, leaving it folded next to his pillow.

"Hey Cas."

Castiel jumps likes he was guilty when Dean leans against the locker next to him. "You doin' okay, man?" He doesn't miss the quick look at his arms but they're hidden beneath the sleeves of his dress shirt. Castiel tugs on the cuffs until he's holding them in his palms.

"I'm fine, Dean. How are you?" he asks, purposely misunderstanding.

"Uh, good." Dean seems to be struggling with what to say next. "Good. You know… still early but uh, so you're good then?"

Already feeling emotionally drained from the last few days and on a short-fuse, Castiel suddenly just wants to cut through the bullshit. He'd practically bit his tongue in two with his uncle and with Dean he wasn't going to.

Closing his locker, he turns and faces the other boy directly. He only takes a brief moment to survey the baggy jeans, wallet chain, and grey t-shirt with a cartoon alien on a skateboard before impatiently asking, "Why are you being so nice to me?"

"Huh?" The bright green of Dean's eyes dims a little. "Seriously, dude? Who gets pissy at someone for being nice?"

Crossing his arms skeptically, Castiel says, "I don't think we've ever had a conversation that didn't turn into an argument at some point-"

"And whose fault is that? Takes two to tango."

"Regardless. I know I'm not the easiest person to get along with."

"Ya think?"

"So why are you being nice to me?" He can't help his suspicion. Especially after Michael.

"Just being friendly."

Castiel frowns.

"Ya know…" Dean chews in his lip. "Because that's something that I want. To be friends."

Castiel takes a moment to decide what to say during which Dean doesn't blink. He searches for the insincere smirk or roll of eyes but Dean seems completely genuine.

"Two things if we're going to try and be friends."

"Shoot."

"No more making fun at my expense over my preferences. I like guys, deal with it."

Dean rolls his eyes and sighs. "Yeah, I really don't have a problem with that."

"You have a funny way of showing it."

Dean laughs once, rubbing a finger over his eyebrow and blowing out a breath all at once. "Anyway. Next?"

"And two…" Castiel looks him straight in the eye. "We don't talk about what you saw."

He can tell Dean knows instantly what he's talking about. "If that's what you want," he agrees, clenching his jaw and looking away.

"It is."

Dean had seen his arms. He couldn't help that, but maybe they could both pretend he hadn't.

"Fine."

Castiel glances around to see how packed the halls are, judging he has about another five minutes or so to start moving on to his first class.

"My turn."

Castiel focuses back on him. "What?"

"I got rules too, man."

"Okay?"

"Learn how to take a joke." Dean surprises him by reaching forward and tugging once on the bottom of his tie. "You can't get your tie in a knot at the drop of a hat, kay?"

Castiel raise an eyebrow at him. "Anything else?"

"Yeah." Dean folds his arms. "You gotta play hacky sack at least once."

His mouth drops open and he's surprised into chuckling. Dean grins. "Keep laughing. It's still gonna happen."

Shaking his head, Castiel suddenly remembers something.

"I'm sorry but I forgot to bring your shirt."

"Don't worry about it, man. I got others."

His heart leaps for a second. It's ridiculous but for some reason it had helped him sleep the whole weekend when he expected to be too stuck in his head with self-loathing thoughts. Even so, Castiel makes himself say, "I'll return it. Tomorrow. I'll remember."

"Like I said, it's cool." Seeming to find the lockers next to them very interesting, Dean shrugs and says, "keep it if you want."

Castiel spends a handful of seconds watching him fidget before Charlie spots them and changes direction to make a beeline.

"My two favorite people with penises! How goes it?"

Dean snickers and leans back against a locker seeming much more at ease now. "It goes. Where you headin'?"

"World History. Jacobs."

"Cool. I'm down the hall with McElroy." He throws an arm over her shoulder and tugs Castiel again by the tie as they start walking in the appropriate direction. "Comin' Cas?"

After only a second's hesitation, he moves forward and catches up to walk in stride next to Dean.

Charlie peeks around Dean's front to throw Castiel a smirk. "Wow. Unchaperoned twice in a row and you still managed not to kill each other? I smell a sitcom."

"I barely resisted," Castiel deadpans.

"I didn't feel like getting' blood all over my jeans," Dean follows up.

Laughing, Charlie smacks Dean lightly in the stomach because he was closest. "Mmm hmm. Oh hey where we eating lunch today, gentlemen? I'm assuming jock-watching is off the menu."

Castiel sucks in a quick breath that both the people next to him know exactly why they weren't going to the bleachers anymore but Dean answers like it's no big deal.

"Come sit with me and my friends. Duh."

He didn't want to immediately insult Dean after their mildly pleasant conversation earlier but he couldn't imagine blending in comfortably with his other friends. "It's a little… crowded over there, but the courtyard's fine."

Ducking under Dean's arm at her class, Charlie salutes. "Alright, later bitches."

Parting ways, Dean lifts his chin at Castiel as a goodbye and turns the corner to his hall. And then he's suddenly left walking to Trig. He had avoided thinking about it all morning until this moment. Heart pounding, he walks through the doorway with his head down, maintaining tunnel-vision all the way to his seat. The normal excited murmur of 30 plus students in a confined space dies down as the cultured voice of Mr. Crowley tells them a page to turn to. He knows he's probably there, heard his deep laugh at something someone whispered to him but Castiel doesn't dare look. Logically, Michael won't approach him about their exchange either out of fear he would say something or anger that he wouldn't go through with it. Still, it's hard to think in terms of logical when he's stuck in vivid memories of that day and listening to him whisper back to someone next to him. After spending the whole class nauseous with tension and trying to make himself as small as possible, the bell rings and Castiel shoots out of his seat heading for the exit.

He doesn't breathe again until he's in his seat in his next class.

For the first time ever, they sit in the courtyard for lunch. It's the opposite corner as Dean's rowdy group and Charlie takes their change in location well, waxing poetic over the shady spot under a big oak and its accompanying bench. He suspects she's just happy not to be on hard bleachers watching boys sweat and grunt. Between bites of bland lasagna, Castiel watches Dean interact with his friends, absently wondering if he was with any of the girls that playfully shoved at him as he tried to balance on his skateboard. How easy it was for people that loved the right way.

Boy sees girl. Girl flirts. Boy flirts. They kiss. They hold hands. They get tired of one another. Repeat. Couples broke up and started a-new every day, never realizing they took for granted how easy it was. He tries to shake off the bitterness but it wasn't easy.

Castiel was vaguely aware that Dean had been going out with Lisa their class president last year… but he hadn't really cared to know or keep up with his love interests. Not that he does now either, but apparently they were friends now. He should know things like that, right?

Dean strolls over about halfway through lunch and waves hello. It seems tame compared to his usual greeting comments but then without the presence of sweating jocks, he supposes Dean doesn't have much fodder for teasing.

Charlie gestures expansively above them. "Dean! Have you seen our tree? Isn't it such a fabulous tree?"

Dean pretends to examine it. "I've seen alotta trees… but yeah this one is pretty kickass."

Castiel looks up at him in greeting when usually he would ignore Dean.

"Hey, I read that book."

Brow furrowing, Castiel asks, "What book?"

"Your favorite or recent favorite, whatever. Aristotle and Dante."

"Oh… you did?"

Great. Why had he told him that book? Why hadn't he said Great Expectations or Life of Pi or just any other possible book?! Even if it was a favorite and definitely his most recent favorite, how stereotypical for him to pick that one. It was about two friends, two _male_ friends, that by the end realize they actually have fallen in love. If he hadn't been so low he wouldn't have given such an honest answer.

Castiel glances at Charlie who is preoccupied with growling curses at her phone. "Stupid bird! Flap! Flap, damn you!"

"Yeah, it was pretty good." Dean shrugs. "Little slow in the middle. Didn't expect the other guy to actually be gay."

"I don't think he did either."

Dean nods and after a second of silence, asks, "So what's another favorite?"

Castiel breathes out in awkward relief that this didn't turn weird. He goes with a safer choice this time.

"Have you read The Book Thief?"

"Nope."

"Huh?" Charlie finally looks up. "Who's a thief?"

The next day was a little easier. He didn't look Michaels way and he pretended he didn't miss having him to obsess over. He didn't go to the library like he had every Tuesday before that for almost two months because obviously that was done with… but he still had a knot in his stomach the whole day. If Charlie or Dean noticed his quiet mood, they don't bother him about it. He lets them talk around him and just coasts through the day.

On Wednesday, after lunch, Dean walks beside him to his next class that's on the way. It was starting to feel normal having him around. Gradually, Castiel was letting his guard down and Dean had been on his best behavior lately. And maybe it was kind of nice having two friends. Charlie and him had just about talked about every topic under in the book at one point or another in their long friendship. Dean brought a new perspective to their lunch time conversations, even if he did have to put up with his addiction to convenient store pastries.

They're almost to his class when out of nowhere Dean asks, "Hey, so uh wanna come over after school?"

"Where?"

"Where you think? My house, dork."

"Oh, um…" Castiel's surprised but, finds he doesn't want to think of an excuse not to go. "What would we do?"

"I dunno. Play Xbox? I got Halo... Call of Duty... Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles?"

Castiel laughs incredulously at Dean's choices. "I don't play video games."

Dean nods, chewing on his bottom lip. He focuses on it for several seconds before licking his own lips and quickly adding, "But um maybe I could watch you?"

"What, watch me play? That wouldn't be any fun for you," Dean says skeptically.

"I watch Charlie play. I don't mind."

"Well whatever. We'll work it out."

"Okay good."

"Good," Dean echoes walking backwards with a subtle little smirk. "I'll find you after school then."

When Dean turns to go, Castiel reaches out to grab his arm to keep him there. He immediately lets go when the other boy looks down at his hand in question.

"What's your favorite book, Dean?"

For some reason, Dean's satisfied grin that he asked makes Castiel's chest tight.

"On the Road."

Squinting, Castiel tilts his head. "Really."

"Yeah. Ever read it? Whole lotta freedom in it. Like the crazy reckless kind."

He's really looking at Dean maybe for the first time. As if self-conscious, Dean seems compelled to add, "And they decide to eat pie for an entire week when they driving cross-country. I mean what's not to like? Pie, dude."

A brief smile flits across his features but Castiel doesn't say anything. He's distracted watching Dean's freckles pop out amongst the blush that he turns away to hide. Over his shoulder he calls, "Yeah so later, Cas."

The rest of the day passes quickly and Castiel tries to ignore the slight buzz of nervous excitement settling in the pit of his stomach. It's just the novelty of spending any amount of time outside of school with someone other than Charlie. No big deal. If it turned out to be a spectacularly awful idea, he could always walk home. The final bell surprises him and he jerks to attention. On his way out the door, Castiel realizes he never settled on where he was meeting Dean. Dean said he would find him. What did that mean? Should he just go to his car? What if Dean was hanging around the courtyard or near the buses or at his locker waiting for him and Cas was waiting at the parkinglot? Mild panic makes him fret in place for a moment outside the classroom before deciding to head to his locker. He's being ridiculous. What was wrong with him? Maybe he should have asked Dean for his phone number for just this reason. They could have texted. But then he might get the wrong idea. Some people automatically assume if you were gay you can't handle being a friend of the same sex without coming onto them at some point.

At his locker, he's still stuck in his own thoughts that are only going in a circle while he switches out his Biology AP book for his Trig. Looking around, and waiting another minute as almost all the kids clear out of the halls, Castiel indecisively begins a slow walk down the hall. He knew it. Dean had gone straight to his car. Just as he clears the end of the line of lockers, a hand fists in his shirt and yanks him backwards into a darkened alcove. He winces when he hits the wall, Michael looming over him.

"Where's my homework, twink?"

Castiel stares in indignant shock, clenching his jaw and fists in growing anger. With one sentence, it becomes horribly clear this was how it was going to be.

"I'll have it for you soon."

Castiel tries to stomp past him, not wanting to prolong this any longer than necessary but Michael grabs his arm and easily pulls him up short.

"Yeah? When?" His tone is almost playful. He wore a smug smile that didn't match his threatening hard eyes. Castiel had imagined it would be hard to just stop looking at this gorgeous popular guy the same way after so long.. how do you just stop? But Michael was making it almost easy.

"Tomorrow."

"Good boy." He smirks and steps closer to murmur, "You woulda loved it." Michael grabs his junk crudely and walks on.

Castiel presses his lips in a hard line watching the jock saunter away.

"Cas?"

Why had he settled on Michael in the first place? Was he so shallow? Of course he was, damnit. Well, never again. Can someone will themselves asexual? Because if so-

"Cas!"

He turns to his right slowly, coming back to the present to see Dean is frowning at him. "What the hell was that about?"

Castiel blinks, stares at Dean for a second before he looks back the way Michael went to see him turning the corner.

"That?" Castiel scowls. "That was nothing."

"Don't tell me you're still... still chasing after that asshole," Dean growls angrily.

"I said it was nothing. Nothing and definitely none of your business, Dean," he says flatly.

"Whatever, man. Forget I freakin' asked."

Dean shakes his head, walking off. Dammit. He has to deal with Michael and now Dean's attitude. The urge to let him go or call something mean after him is hard to resist. That would be easiest. But then this week had been nice. Really nice. Up until five minutes ago, he'd been enjoying their little trio during the day and was maybe even excited to hang out. If he let Dean walk away like this, he knew he would be in the wrong.

"Wait." Castiel winces when he turns back, not exactly ready for what to say.

"Yeah?" Dean sounds annoyed.

"Are we… are we not going hang out today?" he asks timidly because Dean's face is still hard. When he doesn't stop glaring, Castiel tries, "You offered mutated crimefighting turtles? Not that turtles seem ideal vigilantes but I suppose their shells work as a natural defense?"

After another tense couple of seconds, Dean sighs with frustration and allows a reluctant smile. "Yeah alright. C'mon, Nerd Angel."

By the end of the drive with Stairway to Heaven ending, Castiel has mostly forgotten about having to deal with Michael. Dean put in the previous tape without him even asking and they didn't talk once but the atmosphere between them isn't tense anymore.

Dean lives in a small house in a neighborhood of small houses. Most of the bungalows that line the street have colorful flowerbeds and autumn decorations to mark the beginning of Fall. The Winchester house didn't. The grass is mowed and that's about all there to recommend it. They climb the four wooden steps up the porch and he hangs back while Dean fiddles with the door. Huffing he finally rams his shoulder against it making the aging wooden door swing open all at once.

"Door gets stuck," Dean explains rubbing his arm. He drops his bag by the door and heads straight for the kitchen. Castiel follows, taking small peeks around but none of the drapes are open to let in much light to see his surroundings. Holding open the fridge, Dean peers inside. "Want anything? Coke? Juice? Beer?"

Castiel raises an eyebrow and Dean smiles over his shoulder like he's daring him.

"Coke will be fine. Thank you."

Dean grabs two cans and jerks his head towards a hallway to the right.

Dean's room is messy. Posters of bands Castiel's never heard of overlap on the four walls making the small space seem even more confined. A set a drawers serves as a table for a box tv and an Xbox. DVDs and Games are stacked in a few short piles in no particular order on the floor. Moving past him, Dean makes a valiant effort to shove most of the clothes on the floor under his bed and random clutter into his already over-flowing closet. He trips over a pair of boxers that get caught on his shoe and stumbles backwards until his hip smacks the side of the bedpost. Dean mutters a curse and turns around slightly pink while awkwardly gesturing to the floor since there's nowhere else to sit.

Castiel is smiling to himself when he sits down and folds his legs. Dean plops down next to him a foot or so away. Flustered looked good on him. He was used to seeing Dean cocky.

"I can see you smiling, jerk," Dean says while stabbing the large green Xbox button on and shifting back next to him.

Castiel merely raises an eyebrow. "I'm glad your vision wasn't damaged in that fall you took."

Dean snorts and looks away. "Anyway."

After repeating his intention to just watch, Dean starts up a game. Castiel watches. It's hard to follow any type of storyline since Dean seems slightly uncomfortable, continuously checking his peripheral and dying as a result.

"This can't be fun for you, dude."

"Watching you die repeatedly? Charlie doesn't usually die as often."

"Ha. Ha. I wouldn't be dying so much if you'd play."

"Are you sure? You seem to be very good at dying."

This was kind of fun. It was almost like their usual arguing but... different.

Sighing in mock exasperation, Dean says, "Okay I get to this next checkpoint without dying and you have to play."

Considering for a brief moment, he allows, "Fine."

"Yeah?" Dean grins and starts the round over. Castiel waits until Dean is concentrating back on the game and snatches up the controller.

"Hey, no friggin' fair!"

Dodging Dean's grab, Castiel holds it behind him. "I believe you died," he says laughing now when Dean shoves at him and gets up to his knees. "Again, I might add."

Castiel tries to keep him back with a stiff arm, but when Dean almost reaches it, he pushes back as hard as he can, knocking Dean on his butt. He falls into a tower of game cases and they crash over.

"Oh, Dean. Sorry-"

Within a second, Dean is back and shoving him almost over. "Yeah, you're gonna be." He hears Dean's breathless laugh followed by a pained grunt from the one-handed smack to his gut he got in.

They begin to struggle half in earnest, grunting and laughing in small bursts. A stupid noise like a low giggle comes out of Castiel's mouth while he stretches to hold the controller as far behind him as possible with a splayed palm on Dean's sternum to keep him back. That's when Dean lunges, using all his weight to over-power him so Castiel falls backwards. Suddenly Dean's on top of him, their chests bumping momentarily until Dean braces above him. Castiel gasps in surprise and horror at the twitch he feels in his slacks. Panicked, he tosses controller to the side. Dean doesn't follow it. He just stares down at him while Castiel pants hard. Oh god, had he felt it? He couldn't have. Please don't let him get hard right now.

All of the sudden, the bedroom door bangs open so hard it smacks the wall. Dean shoots up and swiftly moves to sit on his bed as Castiel just as quick pushes to an upright position.

"What the hell is all this goddamn noise, Dean?" A large man with several days beard growth on his cheeks rubs the heel of his hand against his forehead. He's in an open robe over white undershirt and boxers.

"Sorry, Sir," Dean apologizes, sounding a little odd. When Castiel turns back to him, every part of the other boy is suddenly just stiff. His voice, his posture… it's like he's coming to attention. His eyes are laser focused on the figure in the door even though his dad was squinting and shielding his face with a hand from the afternoon sun peeking through the blinds.

"Where's Sam?" he growls.

"Jess's."

"Who?!" Another impatient bark.

"His girlfriend. You met her."

John nods after a second or two. "Right. Blonde girl." He sucks in a breath and seems to notice Castiel for the first time. "Who's this?"

Dean's leg bouncing catches Castiel's peripheral. It's the only sign he isn't completely calm like he appears. "Friend of mine. Cas."

"Hello Mr. Winchester." He doesn't know whether to stand and offer his hand. He's glad he didn't a moment later when the man just turns without another word and walks back the way he came, leaving the door open.

Dean watches until he hears a door slam down the hall and his leg slows. Breathing out shallowly, he lowers his eyes and stares at the floor. There's dense silence for a minute with only the quiet hum of the Xbox until Dean mutters a gruff, "Sorry. Didn't think he'd wake up."

Seeing Dean's obvious embarrassment over his dad, Castiel can almost forget about his own. He'd been about ready to sprint out the door with whatever excuse he could mumble first but looking at Dean's usually expressive face so closed down… well it didn't seem as big a deal. Besides his very inappropriate reaction was normal, damnit. Wrestling around all sweaty with another guy, it was bound to happen.

"It's fine really. You don't have to apologize."

Dean doesn't look up. He just stays staring at the space between his shoes as if it's the most interesting thing in the world.

Frowning, in thought, Castiel searches for the right thing to say. Should he offer something equally awful about his family? Sit down next to him?Tactfully retreat to the bathroom to give him time alone? Maybe he should just leave after all.

What would Charlie do? She would know exactly the right thing to say.

Finally, after taking probably too long debating the right course of action, Castiel cautiously says, "I believe due to outside interference, I may be obligated to play."

Dean smiles after only a few seconds and slowly looks up to meet his eyes. Castiel doesn't look away, only offers his own tentative smile in return.

"Damn, right." He grabs the his other controller and pushes its center button for to sync it before handing it over to Cas.

He notices Dean stays on bed. Quiet. Tense. He only haphazardly explains the objective and it's apparent his heart isn't in it. The playful vibe between them had dissipated whether from father's appearance or - and he winces internally at this - maybe Dean is uncomfortable with him now because apparently he can't even handle shoving and playing around without his body betraying him. He wants to say it was nothing personal. It doesn't have to be weird but he can't just say that. Not that Dean probably noticed anyway. So the air's weird but they play and though he dies several times, Castiel has to admit playing is more fun than watching. Dean continues to be too quiet, staring at the screen solemnly. He stops doing what Charlie calls 'button mashing' for a moment and asks, "How do I make my turtle somersault?"

Pausing the game, Dean scoffs. "You don't care about any of this."

"Oh yes," Castiel says gravelly with his eyes still on the screen. "I'm very interested in the mechanics of turtle sparring."

The corner of Dean's mouth lifts briefly but mostly he just stares at Castiel. The front door slams and they both look back to the game, Dean wordlessly unpausing.

Sam walks past the doorway and says a quick," Hey Dean" then backtracks into the doorway. "And Cas." He adds, grinning.

"Hello Sam."


	5. Chapter 5

If Dean remains a little quiet the rest of his visit, he doesn't mind. And anyway, it's not like Castiel was ever bothered by long stretches of silence, so they go on playing as if nothing happened and he tries to banish all thoughts of his body's unwanted reaction.

When he gets a text from his mother asking where he was, Castiel realizes he never texted her. With Michael surprising him at his locker then arguing with Dean, he'd completely forgotten. Another text follows to let him know dinner will be ready soon.

"I have to go. My mom-"

"It's cool." Dean tosses his controller on the bed behind him and is on his feet before Castiel can even look up from his phone.

Frowning, he tries not to be irked by Dean's obvious eagerness to have him gone. "I'll just walk home. It really isn't that far."

"Don't be stupid. Let's go."

For their short drive, Dean switches out Led Zeppelin for some heavy metal band that makes talking impossible. Castiel wants to tell him he needn't have bothered. He gets loud and clear Dean doesn't want to talk about his dad, but apparently he wasn't taking the chance.

They exchange waves and Castiel leaves the car as quickly as possible without looking back.

His mom is home for dinner for once which means they eat at the table, her still in white scrubs with happy cartoon bumblebees.

"How was your day, sweetie?"

"Fine," he answers automatically without looking up from his hamburger helper.

"So tell me about this new friend that keeps dropping you off."

Castiel puffs out a breath and thinks of what to tell her. "That's Dean. He's… he's just a friend of Charlie's."

"Not yours?"

"Well yes, mine too." It was still new to have Dean in that category.

"But not a…" she seemed to struggle on the right wording. "_friend_friend… right?

Boyfriend. The word she was looking for and couldn't even say out loud was boyfriend.

"No."

Even though his mom said she loved him no matter what, he hated the relief he saw in her posture. Accepting he was gay was fine until he had evidence apparently.

When he doesn't pick up the conversation, she says, "He's very young to be driving a classic, isn't he? His family must be well off."

Castiel makes a non-committal noise but doesn't correct her. Though now he is a little curious about how he got his very loud car with what seemed to be humble means. Not that their family lived at the height of opulence or anything but from what he could make out, Dean's house was filled with second-rate thrift shop furnishings.

"Well I'm glad you made a new friend, honey. Bring him around sometime. Does he go to church?"

Castiel represses the laugh. Not that it was impossible but he highly doubted it. "Um, thanks. And I'm not sure."

Seeing she's about to follow up with yet another question he quickly asks, "How was the hospital today?"

While his mom tiredly recounts the cases that strolled through the ER that day and smiles over a story of a little girl asking if she was an angel, Castiel wonders where Dean's mom was.

That night, in the safety of his own bed, he replays that moment. That confusing scary second between wrestling and the hot spark of excitement. In the dark and staring up at his ceiling, Castiel tries to imagine it was someone else. Anyone else. Some faceless person on top of him, holding him down. Maybe lacing their fingers and moving to kiss him until he couldn't breathe. His mind immediately supplies the face and the body he'd felt just a few hours earlier. Dean above him. Dean's fingers between his. Dean kissing him-

He bites his cheek so he doesn't make a noise. His body was getting tight and hard, racing past what had happened to what might have happened.

Castiel makes himself stop before he can take it further. His hand was already fisted in the sheets to keep it from moving where he wants it. Friends don't do that. And they were trying to be friends. If it was Charlie he found himself attracted to, he wouldn't think of touching himself. Michael had been some unattainable daydream that hadn't been real so he'd never felt guilty but with Dean... He can't. He won't. He's not going to do that. He wouldn't be able to look him in the eye the next day.

Rolling over onto his front and groaning into the pillow, Castiel tries very hard to chalk it up to teenage hormones and push it all way down. It takes too long to fall asleep that night.

Castiel still blushes slightly anyway when, Dean appears on the other side his locker door the following morning.

"Hey." His smile is back as he tugs on his tie in greeting.

Smiling in return, Castiel notes, "You seem in a better mood today."

"Yeah," he shrugs sheepishly. "Sorry about that."

"Like I said before, don't be."

Dean nods, his appreciation evident. "Well, I'll be better company next time."

Castiel looks up and sees Dean's waiting as if he asked a question. Next time. Yes, he wouldn't mind that at all.

"I'll need your phone number."

Dean grins with a cocked eyebrow. "Shouldn't you romance me a bit, Cas, before popping that question?"

Castiel's mouth screws up in an embarrassed smile. He rolls his eyes, answering, "I wasn't sure where to meet you yesterday. It only makes sense."

"Yeah, sure… smooth operator," Dean teases while flipping open his phone.

Castiel takes out his own from the pocket of his bag and adds Dean when he rattles off a string of digits. Charlie walks up just as they're putting them back away.

"My male entourage! Thank you for gathering for my arrival."

It's becoming an unspoken thing, all of them meeting up at his locker, and he kind of likes their morning routine.

They say goodbye to Charlie several minutes later and at the next hallway Dean tips his head in parting but pauses to stare past his shoulder. Outside Trig, Michael is lingering next to the doorway with a foot propped behind him against the wall. He's talking with another jock but, after making brief eye contact with him, pats the guy on the back so he goes inside. Michael stays.

Dean flicks his eyes to him then back to Michael.

"Think he's waiting for you."

Castiel holds the strap of his bag tighter. "I know he is."

"You gonna be okay?"

"Fine." His answer is more clipped than he meant but that's due to nerves over having to face the coming ordeal.

Dean strides away without another word but he barely notices the abrupt departure. Taking a fortifying breath, he walks on to get this over with.

"You got it?"

Castiel pulls the pages out between a folder in his messenger bag and wordlessly hands it over. He tries to make his face as blank as possible in response to Michael's smug grin.

Thankfully with only another little sneer, Michael rolls up the papers between his hands and taps Castiel on the shoulder with it as he turns to walk through the door. Exhaling deeply through his nose, he waits a beat and follows after.

At lunch, Dean doesn't come to their spot under the 'fabulous' tree. Castiel keeps glancing up, expecting to see him striding over, skateboard in hand wearing that cocky smirk of his but every time he does, Dean is still talking idly with one of his friends. Truthfully, it would have been nice to hear about whatever skate trick Dean had mastered or his musings on zombie apocalypse survival strategies. Today he could have used the distraction what with still feeling off from the exchange with Michael. But Dean doesn't even look their way. Not that he had to eat lunch with them or anything. Charlie starts up a debate over the best super power to have but he can't help wondering what Dean would have picked.

When he passes him in the halls afterward, Dean nods but doesn't stop to walk alongside him like he had been doing for days. He'd thought everything was normal between them. As normal as it could be.

Maybe he should text him. Maybe not. He only said he would use it if they were meeting up. Was it presumptuous to just text? They were friends, weren't they? Friends text. What if Dean was still upset about his dad? Should he ask? Would that make things worse?

When he doesn't see him again by the end of the day, Castiel texts.

_**Is everything okay?**_

He unloads his messenger bag on top of his bed and spreads the books he has homework for in a row. After several minutes of nothing, Castiel opens his Biology book. A half hour goes by with hardly a question answered because he continues to give his phone an accusing eye. Not that he was waiting. He manages to get a whole two answers written down when finally it buzzes. He gets one word.

**yep**

That's it. It does nothing to make him feel better. He catches his bottom lip between his teeth to worry.

_**This is Castiel by the way. **_

Another five or so minutes go by.

**I know **

His teeth grind in frustration. He doesn't know what else to text. He really wants to ask if Dean's mad at him but why would he be? If you'd told him last week he would be glaring at his phone because he was upset Dean Winchester could be ignoring him, Castiel would have laughed in your face but here he was, definitely annoyed at the thought that Dean was doing just that.

After another twenty or so minutes of staring at his phone, he texts Charlie instead.

_**What are you doing?**_

Her response is much quicker.

**Dory.**

Castiel scrunches his face but gets another text right after that.

**Jk! we're watchin tv. buffy? **

She seemed determined to power through the series with him, one binge session at a time. Deciding he wasn't going to get any further with retaining the differences between homozygous recessive and dominant genotypes while he's trying to figure out a certain skater, Castiel texts an affirmative and is out the door in record time.

Twenty minutes later, he's sipping cherry coke and once again wedged into the half-deflated purple beanbag watching Buffy say her witty line right before staking the bad guy.

"Why did he just wait for her to taunt him like that?" he questions aloud. "Surely that vampire could have spent the time she wasted to get away or fight back."

"One-liners are Buffy's thing. Don't hate," Charlie scolds. "Now shhh. Angel's about to pop up all dark and mysterious out of the shadows."

"I wasn't going to say anythi-"

"Shhh!" she and Dory shout in unison

The girls snicker and sigh over-dramatically at the appearance of said dark and mysterious vampire.

"It will never work out," he declares, gesturing with his can at the TV.

Charlie throws a pillow at him from where she's sprawled across her bed next to Dorothy. "Don't be such a romantic all the time."

Dory chimes in. "Oh come on. She's a vampire slayer. He's a vampire. Its classic opposites attract." Shimmying closer to Charlie she adds, "And if you think this is bad, wait until Tara and Willow get together. The happy noises my girl makes-"

"Hey! Spoilers! He's not there yet!" Charlie shrieks, face a little pink.

They watch another twenty minutes before Castiel scoffs at Buffy shirking patrolling once again. "She should be focusing on her slayer duties. How many innocent people are being killed because she wants to go dance in a skimpy dress at a poorly lit nightclub?"

"Ha! He sounds like Giles!" Dory laughs, nudging Charlie.

Castiel frowns without taking his eyes from the tv. Despite his protests, he is beginning to get sucked into this ridiculous show. "She's only 16, right? And he's… how old again?

"241 and still lookin' pretty," Charlie supplies easily.

"Exactly. If you really think about it, it's a creepy. Borderline pedophilic."

"Excuse me?" Charlie crosses her arms. "You're calling Angel a pedophile?!"

"And he's an old man whether he looks like David Boreanaz or not."

"Hey! Don't dis my broody vampire okay? There are things that are not allowed in my Fortress of Solitude and that is one of them."

"Pretty crowded for a Fortress of Solitude," Dory says, smirking.

Charlie gives her a look and whines under her breath. "Babe, you're supposed to back me up here. Otherwise you're useless to me."

"Useless, hmm?"

Castiel sighs at the flirty eyes they're making and checks his phone again for the third time since arriving to see Dean has actually sent something. He must have missed the buzzing when Buffy's dramatic background music got extra dramatically loud.

**so whatcha doin?**

Glad Dean was texting, maybe he had imagined his mood, Castiel quickly texts back.

_**Watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer with Charlie and Dorothy.**_

Dory glances at him. "Cas baby, you're just a bitter beaver about the lovey dovey stuff because of that A-hole, but-"

"Charlie!" He looks up from his phone to throw an annoyed glare his friend's way but she just shrugs timidly.

"She weaseled it out of me using cruel and slightly sexy methods."

Great. Yet another person aware of the one thing in the world he wants to forget.

"But!" Dory says loud enough to regain his attention. "I promise you, someday someone'll come along and turn your head and when you kiss... you'll see fireworks."

"That is highly unlikely," Castiel says pessimistically as he glances back down the phone. At the moment, he fully anticipated becoming a shut in that had all his groceries delivered until one day he would be found by the neighbors when the smell got too much.

**dude u r such a girl**

Charlie bats her eyes and smiles shyly at her girlfriend. "Did you see fireworks with me?"

"Mmm hmm. Bright _red_ ones." Dory bats her eyes right back.

Castiel sighs, typing out a quick reply before going back to watching a vampire eat her victim.

_**I assure you I have a penis. **_

He smiles, thinking of Dean's reaction to that. Texting made him bolder than he might have been and it was fun teasing in return.

"What's got you smiling all the sudden, grumpy pants?"

"Hmm?" he asks guiltily. "Nothing."

"Uh huh." Dory pulls away from a pouting Charlie to poke him. "C'mon, who's got you checking your phone every two seconds?"

"I am not-" He closes his fist around his phone as the other girl darts a hand out in his direction. "Charlie, please control your girlfriend."

"I've tried." She sighs wistfully, doing nothing to help. "Trust me, it's easier to just give her what she wants. Besides I'm curious too. Who you texting?"

"Nobody." It hums quietly to tell him he has a new message. Looking down, he finishes, "And it's really none- hey!"

Dory snatches his phone up and runs to the other side of the room. "Oooh!" She coos and smirks over her shoulder, reading out Dean's last embarrassing text.

**haha stop tryin to get me to talk about ur penis ;-p**

"What?!" Charlie smiles around her completely open mouth.

"What?" Castiel parrots nervously. "It was a joke. It wasn't- it's not what it sounds like."

He makes a grab for his phone and Dory only dodges his hand for a second before tossing it up in the air for him to catch.

"That was out of context," he grumbles, ducking his head as both girls giggle.

"Sooo," Charlie begins but dissolves into laughter again. Clearing her throat, Dory picks up with a barely controlled face, "In what context were you and Dean discussing your dick?"

Castiel averts his eyes to the ceiling and breathes out one puff of air. "Can we please get back to watching this stupid show?"

Amid much teasing, they get through another two episodes, finishing season two before he needs to get back home to attempt his homework.

The next morning, Dean greets him looking a little anxious.

"Hey."

"Hello, Dean."

"So you didn't text me back yesterday. You know I was-"

"Joking. Yes. If only Charlie and her invasive girlfriend would understand that."

"Oh.." Dean laughs in evident relief, then when he sees Charlie sashaying their way he repeats a solemn, "Oh."

"Yes. Oh."

"Deeean," Charlie sing songs and throws an arm over his shoulders.

Castiel starts off walking before the taunts can start up again. Let Dean take some of the punishment. They trail behind him all the way to Trig and he tries with all his might to block it out. He doesn't want to be around if Charlie starts accusing Dean of flirting or something like she had last night. He didn't want to hear his sarcastic laugh at that.

And to top off the morning, Michael is waiting for him again. This too is apparently a new part of his morning routine; one that instantly destroys his mood and sours his stomach. Waving behind him at his two friends, he reaches into his bag without pausing. When he gets to him, Michael yanks the homework out of his hand and skims it with satisfaction.

"Anything else I can do for you?" Castiel says, voice dry with sarcasm. He was overly tired from staying up that much later to re-copy Michael's work when he was behind on his own.

"Well if you're offerin'…" Michael waggles his eyebrows. At Castiel's blush and angry head jerk to the side, he grunts a laugh and lightly clips his shoulder walking by.

He turns and out of the corner of his eye and is surprised to catch Dean standing there a few feet away. He didn't realize he hadn't walked on to his own class.

When he starts to turn around without a goodbye, Castiel calls, "Dean?"

"What?"

He's a little startled by the anger in his voice and he's not even looking at him. "I'll um see you at lunch, I suppose?"

"Yeah, whatever," Dean shrugs and walks on.

Castiel stares after him. Yeah. Whatever. He was back to that. He knew with those two words, whatever was wrong with Dean, it was definitely due to him. Maybe he had noticed the wrestling had gotten to Castiel a little and now Charlie must have made some joke that made him uncomfortable. Well, whatever. It was Dean's problem. He hoped he got over it but if he didn't want to be friends anymore then it's not like it mattered to him. He wasn't the one who asked to be friends in the first place.

Surprisingly, Dean does come to lunch. At the tail end and bringing along a girl named Jo. She was actually the most normal of his group that Castiel could tell. Blonde hair up in a pony tail and dressed in fitted jeans and a grey tank top. Charlie seems to know her and easily falls into a conversation.

And yet it's… awkward to say the least. Dean isn't talking to him. He just let's Jo and Charlie go on while rolling his board back and forth with one foot. He catches it. Kicks it forwards. Catches it. Kicks it backwards. Jo keeps smiling and looking at Dean. Dean only looks up briefly once and a while at him and Charlie is darting questioning glances between the two of them. Bitterly, he wonders if Dean brought her along as some kind of talisman against gay. As in 'look at this hot girl that is obviously into me. No Homo.' Well it wasn't necessary. Castiel resolves not to ask and under no circumstances to text. If Dean had a problem with him, he needed to just say it, damnit.

* * *

Someone's on top of him, holding him down. Castiel struggles blindly against the weight pining him. Legs, arms, a firm chest covers his, a laugh that sounds like Michael's reverberates in his ear. He can barely take a breath. He's too heavy. He can't breathe. Stop. He's fighting- thrashing and shoving but it's never enough to move him. He's just too strong and he can't stop it.

Then a scratchy cheek rubs over his and Castiel gasps at the sensation. Everything slightly shifts. It isn't a struggle anymore but a sliding of pressure and it's… amazing. They're sweating. Panting in the silence. Rutting and rubbing in ways he had no idea about and if he could just reach down to touch himself, he would explode. He might anyway. He's that close. So close. Please. More.

A head rears back and it's a familiar face braced above his, smiling hungrily. All freckles and lightly scruffed cheeks. He's wearing the green flannel that isn't near the color of his beautiful eyes. But then he can't be wearing that because it's still balled up under his pillow, isn't it?

_Cas._

Castiel wakes up gasping, clutching the flannel. He looks around in confusion, then down at himself. He's hard and his pajama bottoms are damp from apparently thrusting against a pillow. Sweat dots his forehead and trails his neck. Heart hammering too quick, he shuts his eyes and tries to come down from the edge. It had been a dream. Just a dream. After several slow steadying breathes, he looks down accusingly at green material still bunched in his hand. He tosses it and Dean's scent far across the room.

The next morning, Dean doesn't even show up at his locker.

When Charlie appears she jokingly asks, "Aw, what'd you do to Dean now?"

He doesn't answer, just frowns and leans back against his locker, probably looking sullen but he doesn't give a damn. Being friends with Charlie was so easy. Why with Dean was it so difficult? It's confusing and irritating. Half the time he felt like he should be apologizing, the other half he was annoyed with him to varying degrees. Why does he even care what Dean thinks?

Charlie goes to stand beside him then eventually bumps his shoulder with her own. "Wanna see what's in store for our slayer tonight?"

"Is watching a TV show from the 90s your answer to everything?"

"Absolutely and it should be yours."

She wasn't asking anymore about Dean and while surprising, he wasn't going to question it. He wouldn't know what to say anyway.

After a heavy sigh he turns his head to meet her eyes. "Is Spike in any of next few episodes?"

Charlie looks away coyly. "Maaaybe."

He agrees with a half-hearted, "Why not." Maybe watching a pretty blond vampire would take his mind off of stupid dreams and the fact that'd he'd apparently gone from two friends back to one.

Trigonometry has its own time. It's as if he was in a pocket universe where the clock moves twice as slow, giving him plenty of time to dwell on his scattered thoughts.

Castiel's staring off into space as the teacher paces in front of the white board. His voice is a deep soothing monotone that is easy to zone out on. His mind inevitably wanders back to last night's dream. He'd been very close to… well it was sufficiently arousing to say the least. He'd had those types of dreams before but never about someone he knew. Maybe it was good Dean hadn't shown up because Castiel probably would have been a horribly flushed mess at the sight of him. Which is ridiculous. It's just Dean. But why can't he stop thinking about it?

For once he isn't hyper-aware of Michael the entire class. Instead, he's wondering what Dean was doing in Spanish right now and then he was back to thinking about his damn dream. He didn't have any practical knowledge of what rubbing against someone like that would feel like, but that sure didn't stop his mind from creatively filling in the gaps. It was hard to shake the memory of being held in place and kissed hard. Not that it had to be hard but hard meant passionate. In all the movies, they kissed furious and angry but then he wouldn't mind it slow and soft either. Why did his head have to insert Dean? Sure, he was… well okay maybe objectively he could allow Dean was good-looking. He'd possibly been more aware of it lately but that didn't mean he was going to sit here thinking about him. On top of him. Again.

And then of course that's exactly what he starts thinking about.

He indulges the fantasy for a few hot seconds before mentally shaking his head. This was probably the very reason Dean was freaking out around him and being so distant. He was sitting her imagining what it might be like to-

"Mr. Novak."

Castiel straightens out of his slump, realizing he'd been caught up in his own head and unfortunately gotten the poisonous attention of Mr. Crowley. His eyebrows are raised in expectation. Dammit.

"Ahh, there you are. Taking in the sights?" he asks meanly and the class laughs. Michael too. He can pick it out amongst the others easily. His stomach twists, glancing around of his classmates. "Need I remind you how this works, darling? I teach, you retain. If you're off on a mini-vacation to all points nowhere, you aren't listening to me now are you?"

Castiel hopes with everything in his being, would decide his humiliation was enough but apparently no such luck. After slowly pacing as if in thought, the teacher turns to him again. "Well since you obviously weren't giving me or your trigonometry text book any of your wandering attention, perhaps you share with the class what fascinating subject warranted such concentration that I needed to call your name three times?"

Castiel remains quietly squirming with cheeks hot and eyes repeatedly tracing a deep grove on his desk. There was no right answer.

"No?" Crowley tuts as if he really regretted this. "Very well. How 'bout a zero for the day then and we call it even."

Everyone's staring, some making stupid oooh noises and he grips the desk harder with white knuckles. Feeling the looks and whispering all around him, Castiel grits his teeth and the desk hard. His ears roar dully but still he hears that laugh again.

All of this combined with the teacher's lips twisted in gratification has him shooting up his hand.

Stopping mid-turn, sighs dramatically and asks, "What now, Mr. Novak?"

"Bathroom. Please, Sir."

"By all means. There really isn't a reason for you to stay at this point anyway, is there?"

He carefully doesn't make eye contact with anyone while he pulls his bag over his head and shuffles up his row. The teacher pointedly doesn't begin talking again, just waits and thus the class waits while he makes his way towards the front. Because he's an idiot, Castiel slides his eyes to the right to see Michael grinning at another guy and clearly whispering about him. The homework he did for him is out on his desk ready to be turned in.

As soon as the door closes behind him, he hears the lesson start up again and Castiel walks with purpose intending to get as far away from it as possible. He winds up instead at the end of hall and slaps his hand against the door to open it without even pausing in his stride.

He hasn't had geometry in two years but he still keeps the compass in his bag for just this reason. Like Dean's flannel, it's a different kind of safety blanket and today's he's thankful for it. The thought of the ridiculous flannel flashes in his mind front and center and he angrily blinks it away, turning to the row of open stalls and picking the last one even though they're all empty. He's not going to think about Dean right now. Dean who seemed to be avoiding him anyway at the moment for whatever fucking reason.

Ears buzzing with a sound like white noise, Castiel gasps short breaths while his fingers fumble with the lock. With desperate jerky movements, he can't get his sleeve up fast enough as he rolls it higher and higher until he's holding the sharp stainless steel point poised over his bicep. He closes his eyes and presses his lips tight, the jerk of his hand causing that biting release. He does it twice more before he finally exhales and looks at the thin lines of blood. He lets himself look for a moment more before blotting them with toilet paper. He presses and wipes away the blood until it dries enough that he can roll back down his sleeve.

It's easier to breathe now. He feels it when he raises his arm to calmly slide the lock and open the door. He didn't completely understand why but it was comforting. When he moves his hands together to wash them, it's there. He can focus on it instead of Michael's laugh, Crowley's pitiless voice, his classmate's stupid noises. When he's home he can look at it again and ... Last time. This was a minor slip. Last time. He doesn't look up once in the mirror.

Castiel goes to lunch, grabbing food he doesn't really want but it gives him something else to do because he's not going back to class. Instead he heads out to the courtyard an extra ten minutes early. Placing his food beside him on the bench, he waits, helplessly stuck back in Trig in his head. He replays it over and over from every angle like he can drain the most pain and embarrassment from it before the bell rings to signal next lunch. Kids drag their feet back to class as others cheerfully replace them.

"Hey. How'd you get here first?"

Castiel looks up to see Charlie has joined him at some point. "Perhaps today you were extra slow." He attempts a smile for her benefit but he has a feeling it doesn't quite work.

"Seriously," she frowns, obviously sensing something was off.

"Crowley. It wasn't pleasant. I escaped early with a bathroom plea."

Charlie shakes her head. "He's such a buttmonkey. Need a hug?"

Even though he rolls his eyes, Castiel doesn't put up a fight when she leans in

to squeeze his shoulders.

Why can't he be stronger? Why does he fall apart so easily?

Seeing he wasn't being very responsive, Charlie lets him stew in self-pity while she mutters encouragements to another game on her phone. Several minutes pass before he catches sight of Dean coming towards them with a broad-chested boy he vaguely recognized in tow. Jock. He'd seen him from his time at the bleachers. Didn't Dean hate jocks?

"How many people is he going to bring to our spot?" Castiel sighs in annoyance. Now that he sees him, he decides he really wasn't in the mood to talk to Dean right now. Dean can just stay over with his pack of brain-dead friends for all he cares.

"Oh c'mon, Benny's cool. He wears a hat!"

"What does that even mean?"

"It takes confidence and commitment to pull off a hat in highschool."

"I worry about your basis for 'cool'."

Charlie smacks his arm just as Dean's voice intrudes. "Sup, Red. Cas."

And that's another thing. He just adopted the nickname Charlie used without asking or anything. It was presumptuous. Pettily he wants to blame Dean for Crowley. Worrying over Dean made him get distracted enough to be caught. And the fact that he had that intensely hot, completely involuntary dream about him makes Castiel even angrier at the moment.

"Dean," he acknowledges without looking at him.

"This is Benny."

Charlie smiles and waves but a quick glance up is all the greeting he gives Dean's friend before its back down to picking at his sandwich.

"Eh don't mind him. Once you get to know Cas... Yeah he's still rude as hell."

The words sting even if he tells himself he doesn't care what Dean thinks.

"Thank you for your observation," Castiel tilts his head at him, smiling fakely. Seeing the afternoon light hitting his face just right, he almost shivers at a stray thought of dream Dean rubbing a scratchy cheek along his. Damnit it, stop. "If I'm so rude perhaps you shouldn't subject yourself to my presence so often."

"Ya think?" Dean does his own little head tilt to mimic him.

"Yes. Like now for instance."

He stares steadily at Dean and Dean doesn't look away.

"Reeoooww," Charlie makes an angry cat noise at the tension and claws cutely before looking between them and putting her hand down sheepishly. She saves Dean from a scathing comment that was on the tip of his tongue. It wasn't a good time to be pressing his buttons and bringing his damn friends around.

Castiel tosses his uneaten food down next to him again. Maybe he'd just leave and let them all have a better lunch without him.

Surprisingly Benny isn't put off by his unreceptive greeting or the unfriendly air.

"Hey, saw Crowley tear into ya during Trig. Sorry, brother, that was harsh."

Castiel startles into looking up. Was Benny in his class? He needed to pay more attention. Previously he'd been always focusing on Michael and now he spends the whole class trying to block out Michael. He hadn't even noticed Benny before.

Dean's whole posture straightens and he drops the sarcastic smirk immediately. "You alright?"

"Fine. Not that you would care…" He averts his eyes to his sandwich again. "Anyway, he does it to everyone."

"Yeah he was nasty today though," Benny adds grimacing and why won't he stop talking?

Charlie huffs. "That douchepurse."

"Douchepurse?" Benny laughs.

Castiel doesn't listen to whatever funny response Charlie exchanges with this new person he doesn't know and doesn't really want to know. He just wants to be alone.

He unconsciously tugs at the bottom of his right sleeve, feeling a momentary zing of pain with the small movement. Glancing up, he realizes Dean is staring at him and continues to until he can't meet his eyes anymore.

Sighing heavily, Castiel murmurs, "Really, Dean. It's nothing."

He didn't need Dean's concern or pity. He had plenty of his own to go around.

Dean shrugs off his bag and brings it around to balance a bent knee while he hunches over it, digging for something. Castiel raises an eyebrow as Dean pulls out one of those apple pie pastries that he's gets from 7-11. The ones that look like a hotpocket but with fruit. It was his favorite. He tosses it in Castiel's lap.

Taken a little off guard, he frowns down at it. It looks much better than the stale bread and questionable lunch meat he had.

Benny folds his arms and has an odd look on his face watching his friend.

Dean doesn't look his way but the gruff "Shut up" was clearly aimed at Benny.

"I didn't say nothin'," his friend immediately retorts.

"No… it's yours. I appreciate the gesture," Castiel allows begrudgingly, "But I can't."

Dean waves him off. "Dude, you need it more. A crappy day deserves pie."

"Ooh I'll get yelled at for your apple pastry thingie!" Charlie chimes in.

"Yeah well next time you do let me know. Today, it's Cas'." He shoulders back on his bag but Castiel still hesitates. Dean tugs on his tie and the gesture produces a small smile on his lips. "Seriously it's my good deed for the day."

He ends up sharing it with Charlie anyway.

It's harder than usual to conjugate verbs in French class. The whole day's been a mess of confusing painful feelings. He's never been so glad to hear that final bell. His arm still hurts when he raises it to pull on his messenger bag, but now there's more shame associated with the feeling than relief.

Michael is there leaning his back directly against his locker. Twice in one day. He was having to deal with him again. Today was one of those awful days that just kept on giving. He pauses, wanting to just turn around and bolt the other way but he needs his English book. Any other day he might have left anyway but considering how he managed to get a zero in Trig today... he can't afford to avoid this confrontation.

When he reaches him, Castiel fixates on a point over his shoulder and flatly says, "I need to get to my locker."

Michael grunts a laugh but doesn't move.

Castiel looks up and glares. "Please, move."

"Oh, you need your books, huh?" He turns to fully face him, still leaning his shoulder on his locker. "Yeah I guess that makes sense. You got Mosley for English right?"

He doesn't answer.

"Yeah I got her for 2nd period," Michael continues, not bothered that he isn't participating in the conversation. "15pages? Is she fucking serious?"

Castiel has a suspicion he knows where this is going. He'd opened himself up to this. Michael had seen he was weak and now he was going to exploit it. He had done this to himself. His mind supplies so many answers. Fuck off. Go fuck yourself. Go to Hell and leave me the fuck alone-

"So anyways, 'preciate the help. Just give it to me with Crowley's work before Trig."

He sees Dean coming over Michael's shoulder and it pulls him out of his self-hating spiral. They make eye contact for a brief moment before Michael cranes his head to block his view.

"I said, _thanks_, Cassiel."

Michael grins. He doesn't know what expression he has on his face but the other boy steps too close like his very presence is a taunt before veering to the side and walking away.

Castiel huffs out a sigh and turns to where Dean has walked past without stopping.

"Dean."

But he doesn't stop even though he has to have heard him. Completely forgetting the English book he needs for the moment, he goes after him. When he's at his side, all he can see is Dean's profile because he isn't even acknowledging him. He's suddenly so angry his next words are almost a growl.

"What is your problem?!"

After what just happened he should be more upset about the former crush extorting homework out of him but instead all he wants to know is why Dean can't even stand to be in his presence.

"Ain't got a problem, Cas," he says without slowing.

"Then why are you avoiding me?" Castiel keeps up with him for a second then grabs his upper arm to make him stop. Dean stays in place but pulls his arm away, his jaw is flexing like he's angry too. "I thought you wanted to be friends. Not that I have a lot of experience but I believe friends don't act like this."

Without looking at him, Dean mutters, "Yeah well looks like you got enough _friends_."

"What? What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothin'. Look, I gotta go."

"No, tell me what you.." he scrunches his face up, looking back towards his locker. "You don't mean Michael?"

Dean shoulders stiffen just slightly.

"Is that seriously what you've been angry about?"

"No," Dean sounds defensive while he glowers at an interesting spot on the floor. "I mean, whatever. Like you said man, it's none of my business."

Castiel narrows his eyes at him. Was all this really about a ridiculous misunderstanding? "Dean..." he sighs in exasperation.

"Hey, it's a free country. Go off and let some asshole use you and see if I care. Doesn't mean I wanna be around to see it."

"Dean!" Castiel repeats, loud enough to finally get him to meet his eyes. He doesn't want to admit this but it's better than him thinking the alternative. "He's making me do his homework."

Dean's forehead furrows and he steps back. He looks away then back with a funny expression on his face like he's trying to answer a particularly difficult math problem. "I thought- you're not... you and him?"

"No," Castiel's voice gets deeper with how vehemently that word needs to be empathized. "Trust me, I've come to realize how much of a complete ass Michael is."

"Oh... good." He darts a look up. "Well, ya know, not _good_ just… I'm glad you aren't..." Dean rubs the back of his neck. "Guys a major dick and well… yeah. With that shit he pulled on you before, I was just worried is all."

Castiel tilts his head, a little amazed that this was why Dean had been fluctuating between friendly banter to distant so easily. Slowly as if trying to work it out, Castiel says, "You were worried about me so you decided to ignore me?"

"Uh... yes?" Dean asks as if it's as good an answer as any.

Narrowing his eyes, Castiel says, "You do realize that makes absolutely no sense."

"Yeah, I know." Dean sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I swear it's only with you. I'm usually way better at…" He looks up and, seeing the confused expression on Castiel's face, finishes, "making sense."

He's still frowning thoughtfully when Dean asks, "Wait, what the hell do you mean he's _making_ you?"

It's Castiel turn to look away. "It's not a big deal."

"Seriously, stop saying things aren't a big deal. You don't have to just write off everything like that."

That ruffles Castiel's feathers but he can't argue.

"Cas, buddy. You can't just let him bully you. Guys like him don't back down unless you make 'em."

"Dean, I think we both know I can't _make_ him do anything."

A touch to his shoulder causes Castiel to shyly shift his gaze up. Dean's in his space and he can do nothing else but keep that intense eye contact. "I can." Castiel swallows the lump in his throat trying to stay focused on what Dean was saying. "Why don't you... just let me-"

"What?" He steps back so Dean's hand drops. "What would you do, Dean?"

"I don't know! Something."

"Don't you understand? I don't want you or Charlie to do anything. This is easier! I give him what he wants and he leaves me alone."

The path of least resistance meant less time around him because every time he saw that cold, cruel face he just felt like more of an idiot for ever wanting him. Or for foolishly thinking Michael would actually want him in return. For anything other than… that.

Dean's still quietly fuming but it actually lifts Castiel's mood that it was on his behalf. He much preferred Dean angry for him that at him.

Smiling softly at the thought he abruptly asks, "When do you want to hang out again?" English could wait.

"Huh?" Dean says after a minute like he's still thinking about going after a fight.

"You implied you would want to hang out again. Before you got irrationally angry over nothing that is. "

"Oh..." Dean ducks his head to run a hand through his short hair. "How 'bout today? Now?"

Castiel's smile slowly gets bigger. Dean sounded almost eager."Okay."

"Cool."

They stay staring at one another long enough for his stomach to do that nervous flip thing.

"I um actually need to go back to my locker."

"Right, yeah." Dean quickly turns with him to start walking back towards his locker. "Sam's going to Jess' anyway."

Then Castiel remembers. "Wait, No."

"No?"

"I forgot, I told Charlie I would come over."

"Oh. Well that's cool. Another-"

"Would you want to come too? I believe we're watching Buffy again."

Dean snorts. "Yeah, cause I so look like I'm gonna watch that."

An hour later, Castiel's once again in the partially deflated purple beanbag watching a blonde teenager battle the forces of darkness.

"This is so freakin' dumb," Dean grumbles, propping his arms behind him to lean back on the floor. Castiel's eyes flick over his torso against his will before he darts them back to the TV.

"Shh, Spike's on screen!" Charlie snaps.

Castiel leans over conspiratorially. "We respect that Angel will always be Buffy's first love but acknowledge the love-hate chemistry Spike can offer."

Dean rolls his eyes and laughs at Cas' explanation but goes back to watching. It isn't long before he's interrupting again.

"Dude's got a lot of gel in his hair for a vampire, don't ya think? He finds time to do his hair before going out to chomp on cheerleaders?"

"Okay, Fortress of Solitude rule # 34: No talking when Spike is on screen. Translation- Shut up, Dean!"

Dean sighs loudly, unfolds his crossed arms to grab his coke.

Charlie gives him a sly look that Castiel's recognizes as trouble.

"Or if you really need to talk, we could always just talk about Cas' penis if you'd like."

Dean chokes hard on his soda while Castiel only sinks further into his beanbag.

* * *

**Author's Note: If you're grumbling about Oblivious Cas, I promise a confrontation is eminent. A lot of his Dean-shaped blind spot has to do with issues of self-worth and of course his recent ordeal with Michael shaking up his naïve little heart. Just have patience with him, my darlings.**

**As always, will work for comments.**


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning, Castiel is dragging his feet. He comes to a stop in front of his locker and just slumps against it instead of messing with the hanging lock. The time had flown the previous night at Charlie's and he stayed much later than he intended. Dean drove him home, still making jokes about pretty boy vampires and everything appeared to be once again right with them. Unfortunately, he had Trig and English homework for both him and his ex-crush to do before he could sleep. It had been a very long night.

"Hey Cas."

He immediately lifts his head, turning to see Dean right next to him.

"Nice peach fuzz."

He surprises him by brushing a fingertip along his cheek and Castiel has to clear his throat to cover the silly gasp. He hadn't bothered to mess with shaving this morning and apparently it showed.

"You alright?" Dean has on a satisfied smile that might have annoyed him before they became friends.

"Me? Fine. I'm- I'm fine."

Dean looks past him, calling out a greeting to Charlie and he can breathe again. Castiel turns his back to begin twisting the lock and surreptitiously scratches his cheek to get rid of the feeling of Dean's touch. It was just the dream. Eventually it would fade and he wouldn't be so awkward around him. Hopefully.

"No way! Mages out DPS a warlock any day of the week! And their robes are cuter!"

"Keep dreamin', Red. Warlocks eat Mages for breakfast and then ask for seconds."

Sighing, Castiel tunes them out in favor of focusing on Dean's mouth as he talks and wondering what kind of kisser he is. He lips look very full for a boy's. He notices them twist and looks up to see Dean cocking his eyebrow at him. Embarrassed at being caught, he glances away trying to make it seem smooth instead of jerking his head in the opposite direction.

The warning bell rings and thankfully they start moving. As usual, Michael is waiting outside his class for his daily homework exchange. When Castiel mutters a quick bye, Dean catches his shoulder and turns him back towards him.

"When are you gonna tell that dickbag to take a hike? Or let me do it."

"Dean…"

"I'm not gonna let someone treat you like shit, Cas."

"I told you, its fine. I don't need you making a big deal out of this."

"But-"

"Goodbye, Dean," he raises his eyebrows, waiting.

Dean frowns at him and when it becomes apparent he isn't going to give in, he growls, "Dammit, Cas."

"I appreciate your concern."

"Yeah well I'd appreciate it if you'd let me go slug the sonofabitch."

Castiel ducks his head so Dean doesn't see the smile that causes. Dean bumps him under the chin with a knuckle to make him look back up and says, "later," before turning to walk away.

Seeing him alone, Michael starts coming towards him. As they pass, Dean steps close at the last minute and rams his shoulder into the jock's, spinning him to the side with the force of it.

Michael eyes him up and down. "You got a problem, bitch?"

Dean just keeps walking without looking back. Snorting to himself, Michael shakes his head but doesn't seem in a rush to go after him for a fight. Even though he's the Senior, Dean's built bigger.

As Castiel finds the necessary papers in his bag, for once he doesn't feel bitter or anxious. In fact, right at this moment, he feels positively warm and fuzzy.

Stepping up to him, Michael only gets as far as, "Hey you got-" before Castiel smacks the papers to his chest and keeps on walking towards the doorway to Trig. The other boy has to scramble to catch them and Castiel doesn't look back.

* * *

The beginning of lunch is a very distracting time. He barely responds to Charlie's running commentary of Dory's funny texts claiming her History teacher is literally boring her peers to death. Instead he spends it worrying Dean might not come over and then sneaking glances at his group only to be nervous when he sees him kick up his skateboard and walk their way.

Castiel quickly turns to pretend to be engrossed in a conversation with Charlie but of course she's not talking. She raises her eyebrows at him in question.

"Say something."

"Something."

"You are spectacularly unhelpful sometimes," Castiel huffs, abruptly having to cover his mouth for an oncoming yawn.

"Gotta stop staying up so late droolin' over vampires, man." Dean snarks while he straddles the bench next to him. If only it had been fictional vampires that had him salivating.

"It would have been fine if I hadn't had English homework."

Dean's expression sours. "Homework huh?" He looks past him at Charlie and then back to meet Castiel's eyes. "Maybe it's 'cause you got too much, huh?"

Castiel raises an eyebrow in an unspoken sign to change the subject. He didn't need Charlie catching on. "It's _fine_."

"Unrequited vampy love is worth losing sleep over," Charlie declares, missing what they were actually talking about.

Dean sighs through his nose and lets the subject drop."Anyway, what were we talking about earlier? How much more awesome Warlocks are than Mages?"

Charlie makes an indignant squeak.

"C'mon, Cas. Deciding vote. Warlocks, right? Waaay better?" Dean throws an arm over his shoulder.

"Well, um.. I guess-."

"No! He was my friend first! He picks Mages!"Charlie grabs his hands, like she'll tug him away from Dean and thus sway his decision.

Eyes wide, Castiel tries to remain impartial through the human tug of war they somehow roped him into. "Um... I really don't think-"

"Well he's fair game, now!" Dean laughs. His arm slips over his shoulder, curving around his chest to pull him back against him and reaching around his body to bat away Charlie's grip with his other hand. Castiel almost shivers when Dean turns his head close to his ear and stage-whispers, "Say Warlocks. Come on, man. Guys stick together."

Breathing a little unsteadily, he finally manages to get out the diplomatic answer. "Uh, I'm sure both are equally powerful in different ways."

"Dude." Letting go, Dean sighs like he's disappointed but there's still a grin on his face.

"Aw, weaksauce," Charlie agrees throwing her hands up. "Where's your loyalty?"

Castiel only shrugs, meticulously fixing his shirt and tie until he can handle looking at Dean again.

* * *

Another week passes like that, Castiel trying to ignore the way he felt whenever Dean got too close or touched him some innocent way. He invited him back to the skatepark and Charlie wanted him to come over for more marathoning but he had to decline both offers. His nights were occupied with his increased homework load. Thankfully, Friday finally rolls around and he doesn't have to worry about staying up to do homework. Or anyone else's homework.

"So boys, you got plans tonight?" Charlie asks that morning, leaning against his locker as she tosses gummy bears in the air to catch in her mouth.

Dean swipes the bag while she's preoccupied, making her miss and cause a gummy bear casualty. "Gotta work after school."

"You have a job?" Castiel turns to him.

"Yeah. kinda. Singer's Body Shop off of Sheldon Ave belongs to my uncle. Bobby gives me cash under the table sometimes to help out. Not like all the time but ya know when I need it."

Castiel tries to imagine his own uncle as a mechanic and almost laughs out loud. Zachariah probably never had oil under his manicured nails in his life.

"Its how I fixed up dad's car. Sweet '67 Chevy just rusting in the backyard until I got to her. Now she's mine."

He hums noncommittally, getting a little lost in the thought of a sweaty, dirty Dean working under a car. It should be a repulsive image but it was definitely having the opposite effect.

After Charlie snags back her gummy bears, Dean eyes him up and down. "Come by sometime. I'll give you a tune up on the house."

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Castiel says, "Oh I don't drive."

"Like you don't have a car or…"

"Well, I um haven't learned yet."

His mother worked too many hours to find extra time to teach him and if he really wanted he could always just sign up for Driver's Ed. Not that the idea of people watching and scrutinizing as he learned a new skill had him jumping to sign up. One day he'd learn but it wouldn't be with thirty of his peers cracking jokes.

"Everywhere I want to go is within walking distance anyway."

"Okay…" Dean rubs his fingertip along his eyebrow like he does when he's thinking. "Well, we'll have to fix that huh?"

Forehead creasing, Castiel asks, "You want to teach me to drive?"

"Sure. If you want."

"Aww," Charlie makes a little noise that he doesn't acknowledge.

"Why?"

"I need a reason?"

The first bell rings and Charlie heads off without waiting for them with a quick, "Welp, I've definitely gotta be early today. So, uh, later!"

Castiel frowns after her, then looks back at Dean as he leisurely busies himself with pulling on his backpack. "Tell you what, Saturday Sam's got this math brainiac competition thing but maybe Sunday? You come over and I could show you a few things?"

He almost says yes but the thought of his uncle's long lecture at missing yet another church service has him wincing in regret.

"Or not. It was just an idea," Dean starts walking.

Falling in beside him, Castiel quickly says, "No it's just… I might have to go to church."

"Oh."

Castiel bites his lip, hating the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. Not that he was ashamed of going exactly but Dean probably thought it was weird. Or uncool. Or whatever.

"Well… that's cool," Dean finally says. "Maybe after?"

Smiling in relief, Castiel considers. If he got out by noon he would have until almost 6 before his uncle showed up.

"Yes, I think I'd like that very much, Dean."

* * *

"So..?"

"So, what?" he asks as he sits beside Charlie on their bench later. Today's lunch was tater tots and chicken nuggets. Everything looked about the same size and shape, tasteless orange cubes.

"What happened after I left?"

"Nothing."

"What do you mean nothing?"

"Exactly what I said. Dean offered to give me a driving lesson Sunday, which you would know if you stayed. Why did you leave anyway?"

She looks up about to say something but closes her mouth when she sees Dean walking over. He hadn't even stopped at his other friends today.

"Shh, it's nothing. Like you said. Nothing nothing nothing."

He promptly forgets Charlie's weird question once Dean sits down next to him.

"You're early," he notes, eyes on his uneaten tray of food.

"Hmm, you are early, Dean," Charlie smirks with her head tilted. "Eager to see us or something?"

Taking out his packaged sticky bun, Dean shrugs. "Christ, I can go and come back in ten minutes if you guys want."

"It was just an observation." Castiel says, examining his food. He nibbles his tater tots, letting Dean steal one or two without much of a fight. They only have a few minutes before Dean's friends start wandering over as they sometimes do now. It was annoying but short of telling Dean not to come over, he didn't know how to stop it

"And here they come," he grumbles. "Can they not survive one day without you?"

Dean smirks and leans closer to ask, "Want me all to yourself, huh?"

Castiel rolls his eyes at Dean's following wink.

Pamela is one such new-comer he could do without. She's practically licking her lips at Dean while he's relaying some feat of Ash's at the skatepark yesterday. If it wasn't Jo being cute and sweet, it was this intimidating creature in a pyramid-studded belt, black tank top and black jeans oozing confidence in all the ways he doesn't.

Castiel watches Dean's profile, not really listening. Suddenly, he feels lonely in this small group of people hanging on Dean's every word. Charlie is friends with most of these people too. He preferred when it was just them. He ducks his head, wondering how long until the bell.

Dean uses both hands to imitate a swooping motion as he laughingly describes this "awesome" stunt. When he drops his hand by his side, the tips of his fingers touch the top of Castiel's. Instantly, all of his focus goes to that one spot. Casually as possible, he glances up but Dean just continues the story. He looks over towards Charlie but of course even if he could catch her eye, she can't see what he's trying not to freak out over. Their hands are blocked from sight by Dean's knee.

Swallowing, Castiel wills his fingers not to twitch. Should he just move his hand away? Maybe he doesn't realize it's there. Castiel covertly looks at Dean's face again then back to where their fingers are touching. Mid-sentence, Dean meets his eyes for a brief second before smiling around the next few words. His hand shifts a little more over top his. Castiel's heart beats a mile a minute while he pretends to listen to the rest of the story instead of counting Dean's freckles.

The rest of the day was devoted to re-examining that small touch from every possible angle. He doesn't know what happened. Why it happened. What it meant or how to take it. They'd parted when the bell rang and went to class like nothing had happened and he was left internally panicking. Dean seemed to be a touchy person. He'd gotten used to it, as much as he could but that didn't mean it didn't affect him. Right now this was definitely doing awful amazing things for his imagination.

Alternating between nervous excitement and anxiety, Castiel heads to his locker at the end of the day to drop off his books. It's hard to concentrate on his locker combination when he can't stop smiling. And he still has Sunday to look forward to when a familiar voice interrupts his thoughts.

"Glad to see me?"

Castiel's expression immediately goes blank. Michael grins next to him, obviously catching him smiling to himself like a crazy person.

"What are you doing here?" Castiel all but tosses the books in his locker without looking at the other boy. In all the time he'd spent obsessing over him, he'd never seen Michael this much. Now it seemed he was everywhere.

"Just wonderin' if maybe you reconsidered."

Castiel folds his arms and gives him a level look. "You can't be serious."

"C'mon, I know you want me. All that time, I saw you lookin' and your cheeks would go all pink like a girl's…"

He caresses a path down his cheek. Castiel clenches his jaw and closes his eyes. He would not let this get to him. "That was before."

"Before what?" He glances around for onlookers then leans against the locker next to play with his tie. It reminded him of the way Dean tugged on it sometimes.

"Don't do that."

Michael sighs in annoyance. "Are you seriously this much of a freaking tease? What's the point of playing it up like this?"

Slamming his locker, Castiel starts walking away, deciding ignoring him was the best option. A hand hooked at his elbow pulls him up short.

"Look-"

Castiel jerks his arm out of Michael's grip and turns back. "Careful. Someone might see and think you're gay."

Narrowing his eyes, Michael says, "I'm not gay."

Castiel rolls his eyes.

Michael fists a hand in his shirt and slams him back against a nearby glass case with dozens of shining trophies. "I'm. Not. Gay. If some little twink wants to suck me off or take it… then a hole's a hole. I'm not bending over like some bitch. I'm not fucking gay."

The flickers of fear seep away as Castiel shoves with every bit of anger in him. Michael actually steps back several feet and hits the opposite line of lockers.

"What you _are_ is pathetic."

Michael seems lost for a moment on what to do. A click click of heels has him focusing on a teacher walking their way from the end of the hall.

Castiel sees her too and takes the opportunity to step close to growl, "Do your own damn homework from now on."

He quickly walks away without looking back and hurries across the school to make it to the buses. Only when he's in his seat, staring out the window can he breathe easy and even smile to himself over what he'd just done. Today had been a terrifying, but liberating day.

* * *

Dean reaches for the keys at the same time he does and their hands bump.

"Sorry," he blushes and jerks his hand away.

"No it was me," Dean answers. He waits and when Castiel doesn't move to touch them again, Dean turns the key for him from the passenger seat.

He sat through service that morning barely hearing the words of the preacher and the well wishes of people he knew. His mother said all the right things while he impatiently tapped his foot half the time. When the final hymn was sung, he had ducked out through the crowd the first chance he got, avoiding his uncle completely. Now here he was, behind the wheel of Dean's precious, very loud car and practically shaking.

"Now this is my baby. You hurt my baby, we're gonna have issues."

"You're not doing anything to alleviate my nerves. Just so you know." He grips the steering wheel harder, hands at precisely 10 and 2.

"Alright. So left pedal brake. Right, Gas. Put her in gear and let's try it out."

"That's it?" He gasps in disbelief

"You gotta learn by trying, man. Don't worry no one's around."

"You're around."

Dean smiles at that. "Hey, no judging here. Judge-free zone."

They were in a huge empty parking lot of a closed down K-Mart. At least he couldn't hit anything. Castiel turns the key and the loud growl startles him. The car practically vibrates with the engine. Castiel breathes out, breathes in, closing his eyes until Dean covers his hand on the steering wheel.

"You can do this. I promise."

Opening his eyes, he darts a nervous glance at Dean's hand then his face. Dean clears his throat and moves his hand to gesture out to the windshield.

"Ready when you are."

Inhaling deeply one last time, Castiel puts the car in gear while pressing down on left pedal as hard as he can.

"Now take your foot off the brake and put it down- lightly- on the gas."

They lurch forward and Castiel stomps on the brake. Bracing a hand on the dashboard, Dean winces at their abrupt stop.

"Okay try not doing that."

"What?"

"Don't mash the brakes. Just slowly push it down."

"Okay..."

He let's go and rolls a distance before trying it slower and they ease to a stop instead.

"See? Easy. Keep going."

He creeps forward and tries not to jump when the engine revs loudly. "This is anything but easy," Castiel says, body stiff as a board. Knowing Dean is carefully watching him, makes it very hard to stay focused on driving and not self-consciously glance to his right. He successfully completes several tense circuits around the parking lot before pulling to another slow stop where he started.

"Good." Dean cups his neck and squeezes. "You're doing real good, Cas."

He smiles and while turning to Dean accidentally lifts his foot from the brake so they start rolling. He panics and stomps it again. They heave forward in their seats like before.

Instead of scolding him, Dean laughs and tells him to try backing up now.

After an hour of practicing, Dean asks if he's ready for the open road. He doesn't feel ready but then he probably never would. They creep along back streets of quiet neighborhoods, never getting faster than 20 miles an hour. Dean jokes about him, as he puts it, driving like a turtle and Castiel informs him that the speed limit is 25. He doesn't want to accidentally go over it. Dean just chuckles and shakes his head. There's hardly any traffic so it isn't half as scary as he anticipated and with Dean talking to him, he slowly finds himself relaxing. That's when an elderly woman honks excessively from behind them until she finally careens around the Impala. Dean reaches in front of him to lay on the horn at her.

"It's a residential zone, lady!" he yells even though she has no chance of hearing him. "Ah, don't worry about her. You're doin' great, Cas."

He smiles with strain, eyes wide at the road.

After another ten or so minutes, Dean directs him back to his house. He only breathes easy when the engine is off and the car cool ticks.

"Look at you, made it through your first driving lesson."

Castiel puffs out a breath, laughing in relief. "Apparently."

"We'll practice some more another day but you were looking a little green around the gills."

"Yes." He finally uncurls his stiff fingers from the steering wheel. "Thank you."

"So uh, you got time or need to head home?"

Castiel pretends to consider and checks his phone for the time but he already knows the answer.

"I have time."

"Cool.. wanna come in?"

Biting his lip, Castiel nods.

They walk through the quiet house to Dean's room. He crosses his legs on the floor without prompting and Dean joins him, sitting a few feet away. He hooks an arm around a bent knee, without going for the Xbox console and they just sit in awkward silence for a moment.

Dean frowns at the carpet, chewing on the corner of his lower lip then shifts to lean back on his arms.

It's too quiet. Castiel can hear himself breathing and then worries he's breathing too loud. Why isn't Dean saying anything? Nervously, Castiel asks, "Is your dad here?"

"No."

Dean doesn't elaborate so he doesn't ask.

"Um where's Sam?"

Dean seems on edge when he asks, "What are you worried about, man? They're not here."

"Nothing. I was just... nevermind."

Sighing, Dean looks away. "Sorry. He's at Jess's."

"Oh." Seeing an opportunity to naturally work it into the conversation, Castiel asks, "Do you have a girlfriend?"

Dean turns back to stare at him hard. "No, _Cas_. I don't have a girlfriend."

The silence stretches again, suffocating.

"Why, would you care if I did?"

"What? No. Why would I care?" Castiel's eyes lower as he picks at the carpet.

Dean gets up abruptly. He only has a second to stare in confusion at the empty doorway before he comes back with a beer and a coke for him.

"You mind?" he asks, already popping the tab.

"No."

Castiel doesn't open his, just traces the rim with a finger and rubbing away the condensation. It feels like Dean is mad at him, the way he takes a deep swallow and then glares at the beer in his hand. After noticing him looking at it, Dean wordlessly offers him the can. As if he had something to prove, Castiel takes it and takes a quick sip, grimacing at the taste.

"Yeah takes some getting used to."

"I wouldn't know."

Castiel takes another larger sip and hands it back, mind reeling at the fact that Dean could just go get a beer from what he assumes was his father's supply, anytime he wants. "Where's your mom?"

He didn't think, it just popped out of his nervous mouth. Dean frowns, flicking the tab of the can instead of answering.

"Nevermind. You don't have to answer that."

"No it's cool. She's, ya know, gone."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to ask."

Dean stares at the beer in his hand, shrugging. "Happened a long time ago." After a minute, he asks, "Don't suppose you'd wanna talk about that thing we're not supposed to talk about?"

Castiel tenses, barely resisting looking at his arms but they were covered. "Dean..."

"How 'bout a scar for a scar."

He didn't want to say some scrape he got from a skateboarding mishap didn't exactly compare. It didn't come with intimate exposed feelings.

"Forget it. Stupid idea."

Reluctantly Castiel says, "No. It's okay. Just this once." He had brought up Dean's mom after all. Maybe this would make them even.

Dean lifts up his jeans leg to his knee and pushes down his sock to show a nasty burn taking up about half of his calf on one side. Castiel tilts his head to see all of it. It's an old scar, the skin light and shiny in spots, puckered and rough in others. It must have been excruciating.

"Fire," Dean says eying it too. "I was like 4, almost 5. Got caught on the way out." He presses his lips hard and finishes, " Mom didn't make it."

Dean covers it back up. He doesn't know what to say except, "I'm so sorry, Dean." It seemed so insufficient.

Nodding, he says, "yeah, me too."

After several long silent moments, Dean looks up at him and clearly it's time.

Blowing out a heavy breath, Castiel considers before lifting his own pant leg revealing a collection of long scars down by his ankle all in a row like tallies.

"It was the first week my brother left for college. He lives on campus."

Even though he knew Gabriel would be back, he had felt abandoned. At the moment he'd done them, he'd never felt so alone. A few years old, they were faded but still very obvious because of their uniformity.

Dean traces one with a finger. "What's your mom say."

"She doesn't." He tries not to shiver from Dean touching him.

"C'mon, Cas," he says like he doesn't believe him.

"No I mean..." He squirms a little at having to put all of this into words. "She doesn't like conflict. She wants to believe I fell or tripped or got scratched by a cat. I think it's easier to believe whatever excuse I tell her."

He had a feeling his mother was happy to think she never had to worry about him. Gabriel had always been the troublemaker. The prankster. The one she got phone calls from the principle about him starting a fire in chem class. Castiel was supposed to be her angel. He got good grades and if he wasn't at home he was at Charlie's.

Dean's eyebrows stay together in disapproval.

"Your pop?"

Castiel shakes his head. "He left when my mother was pregnant with me." He picks at that same spot at the carpet, not really seeing it.

They never heard from him and his mom doesn't talk about him. He begged Gabriel to tell him what he remembered of their father when he was young but it was precious little, some of which he's sure now his brother made up. The chances were low that his father was an astronaut.

"Don't misunderstand me, she works really hard. And me and Gabe couldn't have been easy to raise alone. It's just… we don't talk about the hard stuff. I could never talk to her about…" he gestures to his leg. "We're just not close like that."

Dean doesn't answer. He hasn't been brave enough to look up from the scar to see Dean's face and it's too quiet.

"And it doesn't happen very often," he adds in a small voice.

"Don't feed me that. If you have to lie, don't say anything."

Castiel purses his lips but doesn't leap to assure him anymore.

Dean reaches forward and covers the marks on his leg with his hand. Castiel finally looks up at him, feeling the warmth of his palm there was some kind of acceptance. Dean sees him and doesn't think he was some kind of freak.

Their gazes travel over each other's face until Castiel feels his eyes sting as he has to look away.

"Can I have a beer, please?"

Dean gets up and seems to take extra long, allowing Castiel to compose himself. He comes back with a laptop he assumes is Sam's after hitting a few buttons music starts up, languid and rhythmic. "This is Pink Floyd. Learn it. Love it."

Dean pops his beer tab and hands it over. He smiles over the rim of his own drink while he watches Castiel take his third ever sip of beer. He still grimaces around the swallow but tries not to let Dean see it. After a few more tries, he realizes the quicker he gulps it, the less he tastes.

Dean raises an eyebrow in apparent admiration at how quickly he's done.

"Damn dude, I feel like I'm corrupting you or something," he says tipping his own can up to finish it.

Castiel leans back with his arms behind him, stretching like he's seen Dean do. Dean's eyes do a little sideways tour of him before he smirks and shakes his head.

"I believe corruption would take more than one beer."

Dean scrunches his face up like he's debating a bad idea before nodding once. "Think you're right. Anyway it's a celebration, right? First time driving and all."

Castiel tilts his head to openly watch his butt when Dean gets up to leave. How had he never noticed Dean had such a lovely butt? He wonders absently if people ever wrote poems about butts. Probably the Greeks. They were very much into the human form.

"Whatcha thinkin' about so serious?" Dean asks when he sits beside him and hands him another can.

"The Greeks." He innocently says, popping his own tab this time.

It doesn't even taste that bad anymore. The music is mellow, flowing around them hypnotically and he sways to it unconsciously after a few more swallows. His muscles are starting to relax and there's this curious burning in his stomach that is not at all unpleasant.

"Yo, maybe you should slow down some..."

Castiel turns to him and shakes his can to show it's empty. "How can I slow down when there's nothing left?"

"Or not."

"Maybe you should speed up." Without asking, he swipes Dean's can for a few more sips before he manages to wrestle it back.

"Jesus, I've created a monster.".

"Growl," he deadpans without inflection and Dean tips his head back to laugh.

He stretches out even further, crossing his feet at the ankle. Seeing his socks, he frowns.

"Where are my shoes?"

"You took 'em off like literally a minute ago."

"Oh, did I?" He smirks at Dean for no good reason and Dean smiles back.

"Feeling good?"

"Mmm." Castiel tries to stop smiling only to ruin it by laughing. "Exceptionally good."

Dean snorts. "Figures you'd be a wordy drunk. And to think your butt was in a pew singin' Hallelujah this morning."

"Stop trying to talk about my butt."

Castiel's proud when Dean almost chokes on his mouthful of drink. He nods to himself. He was funnier with beer. Why had he not done this before? Talking to Dean like this was almost effortless. He doesn't feel any of the awkwardness that he always carries with him like a second passenger. Everything just seems… easier.

Dean licks his thumb clean of the dripping beer and wow that is suddenly very fascinating. "So since you're feelin' so good and all, tell me something."

"Like what?"

"Anything. People tend to be all kinds of honest when they're buzzed."

"Hmm, that doesn't seem very fair."

"Hey you asked me for the beer."

"True." Castiel blows out a breath, swaying his head a little from side to side while he thinks. "I…"

I want to feel how scratchy your cheeks are.

I've only kissed one person but I would like you to be my second.

I sometimes imagine you naked on top of me.

"I don't loathe you anymore." That was definitely honest.

"Oh well that's nice," Dean chuckles, finishing his can and putting it behind him.

"Your turn."

"We're taking turns huh? Okay... I never _loathed_ you."

Castiel grins. "I suppose you're just too nice to loathe anyone."

Dean rolls his eyes. "I'm not that nice, Cas."

"Oh wait no!" Castiel lurches towards him and Dean has to catch his shoulder to keep him from face planting. "No you really loathe Michael. And jocks. And Godfather 3."

"I don't got a problem with jocks. Usually."

"Right. Benny. He wears a hat."

Dean cuffs the back of his neck and leans closer to whisper conspiratorially, "I think two beers is your limit, lightweight."

Castiel grins and gets up on his knees, putting both hands on his friend's shoulders. They were such nice shoulders. "Dean."

He forgets whatever he meant to say and instead stares at his mouth. Licking out over his own bottom lip, he raises his gaze to see Dean's eyes go wide. He blinks hard to try and focus but he's tipping forward losing his balance. Castiel drops his head to burrow into the warmth of Dean's neck. God, he smells so good.

Dean's arm tentatively comes up behind his back to steady him. It's almost like they're hugging and it feels wonderful. Later this will probably be embarrassing but right now he can't think of a reason why.

"I still have your shirt," he says out of nowhere.

Dean pulse beats fast under his cheek and he nuzzles against it.

"Yeah, I know."

"I don't want to give it back."

Dean laughs a little shakily and he feels it in the chest he's lying against. He's so comfortable… Dean is like the most comfortable pillow, smells so good.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles, not sure what he's apologizing for.

Next to his ear, he hears Dean's gruff voice. "Don't ever be sorry, man."

* * *

Castiel wakes in a haze, blinking to figure out where he is. Rubbing his eyes, he sees the over-lapping posters covering the wall to his right and sinks further into the pillow under his head. He's in a bed. He's in Dean's bed. He's in Dean's bed?

Castiel looks up to see he had been curled around Dean leg while he was playing video games on mute. Glancing down, Dean hits pause and tosses the controller down.

"Hey sleepyhead, you want-"

"What time is it?!"

He shoots up in a sudden panic, knocking Dean's chin painfully. They both groan and Castiel holds his head. His eyes are dry and he has an awful headache.

"Uh I dunno like 5?"

"Damnit. I have to go! Now, right now."

"Okay, Okay."

Castiel braces on the edge of the bed and then gets up with a small grunt.

"You're not dizzy or anything right? You didn't have _that_ much."

"No just my head…"

"Alright," Dean grabs him by the shoulders from behind and steers him into a small connecting bathroom.

"Splash water on your face. Rinse your mouth out with the blue stuff there. I'll get some Tylenol."

Dean leaves for a second while he does what he's told. The cold water helps clear his head and he feels a little less groggy. Dean returns with a cup that filled with water and sets it next to his elbow, then brushes past him in the tight space to open the medicine cabinet. He throws down a towel down at the corner of the sink.

After gulping down the entire glass with the two pills, he starts to rush towards the door but Dean yells that he needs his shoes.

Looking down, he sighs.

"You're gonna be okay, alright?" Dean says, checking him between watching the road. "Try to eat something when you get home."

"That shouldn't be a problem," Castiel mumbles with his eyes closed and head resting against the window.

Sunday Dinner. Anything sounded better than Sunday dinner right now. Going back to Dean's sounded fantastic. Did he really sleep in Dean's bed? How'd he get there? Dean had to have moved him. How embarrassing.

The car stops.

"We're here. How ya feelin'?"

Castiel didn't know if he should apologize or just leave. He was slowly picking through the memories that were coming back to him.

"Cas?"

Castiel quickly straightens when he sees his mom coming outside. "Do I look… okay?"

Dean fixes his collar for a second then pats his cheek lightly. "You're fine."

He gets out, as does Dean does, folding his arms on top of the car to watch him.

"Introduce me to your friend, Cassie."

His mother is smiling with raised eyebrows at Dean. Dean whose bed he'd just slept in. Dean who gave him beer. Dean who he sometimes had embarrassingly hot daydreams about. Castiel chews his bottom lip, anxiety quietly spiking. "Um, well this is Dean."

His mom smiles and waves. Dean smoothly says, "Nice to meet you Ms. Novak," looking natural and positively chipper.

"Please, call me Sarah. Would you like to join us for dinner, Dean? I made a ham."

Dean's mouth falls open. He's practically licking his lips and Castiel panics that he might accept. Too many awful scenarios play out in flashes and it must show on his face because after Dean glances at him, he shakes his head.

"Thanks but my dad has dinner waiting for me at home."

He knows Dean is lying and yes he feels that much more awful about it but really, he was doing him a favor. No one deserved to be subjected to his uncle.

"Oh well next time then."

"Sure," he smiles and says, "Later, Cas."

Zachariah is inside folding his arms. "And just where have you-"

He holds up a hand. "Please stop yelling."

"I suppose you're sick again."

He doesn't answer, just makes a beeline to the table. "We started without you. If you think you're just going to swan in here whenever you feel like it.."

Castiel grabs a roll, turns and walks into his room, closing the door behind him.

"Castiel!"

He doesn't listen to the voices outside his bedroom. He eats the roll because Dean said to eat and then lies face down on the bed. His headache is mostly gone but sleep still sounded like a great idea. He's just about to drift off when suddenly, Castiel pushes up on his arms.

"Oh god," he groans aloud.

He fell asleep on Dean. Wrapped around him like a spider monkey. Just now when he really takes the time to remember it all, he recalls rubbing against his neck like an affectionate cat, oh god.

Beer was evil. Never never again.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: I've been awful sick for about a week and a half so this has taken forever and a day to get done but read the note at the end of the chapter for a special surprise. Also I'm dreadfully sorry for any typos. Can I blame the Nyquil?**

* * *

_**I'm sorry.**__**  
**_  
Castiel texted it ten minutes ago because he hadn't been able to fall back asleep. Just thinking about how he'd acted makes him cringe. He cradles his phone in his hand, replaying what it felt like to have Dean's arm around him. Not that he'd given him much of a choice the way he'd jumped into his lap. He'd been wrapped around Dean and nuzzling his neck and the whole thing just makes him squirm now.

His mom knocks softly on the door and he stashes the phone under his pillow. He heard his uncle's car drive off a few minutes ago so she was probably here to talk. He absolutely was not up for that right now. Nervous that she would somehow be able to tell he'd been drinking despite Dean's efforts, he pretends to be asleep. She stays at the door for a tense minute or two then closes it quietly behind her.

His phone buzzes with the click of his door and he checks it as soon as he's sure she's really gone.

**what r u sorry for?****  
**  
Castiel sighs at the ceiling. Well let's see… there was falling asleep on him, vaguely he remembers making up a poem about Dean's butt hopefully only in his head and he was pretty sure there was a moment there he almost leaned forward and kissed the other boy. What would that have been like? What would Dean have done? He almost wishes he had then he could blame it on the beer.

_**Sorry if I was annoying.**_

The answering text only takes a few seconds.

**u weren't****  
**  
He tries to take that to heart, but the knot of embarrassment and wrong still holds tight.

**ur a happy drunk. kept expecting u to purr or something****  
**  
Castiel bites his lip, grinning. He hesitates a moment before texting back.

_** I might remember growling.**_

He only looks away from the phone to grab his charger before the next text._**  
**_  
**yeah I might remember that too :-p**

Everything seems to be okay. Dean didn't find him obnoxious, even though _he_ certainly hadn't been acting silly. Maybe he was used to drinking that much. He had called him a lightweight. Sinking back into the pillow, Castiel plugs in the phone and holds it above him to type.

_**Thank you for today. The driving lesson and… everything.**_

Everything covered a lot but he didn't know how else to say it all. For their little talk, for not freaking out about his scars, for showing him his own scar. Somehow he found himself feeling closer to Dean than he had to anyone besides Charlie and he hoped Dean felt it too.

**anytime cas**

And finally he's able to fall asleep.

* * *

"Morning, Cassie," his mom says from the stove while she scrambles some eggs.

He frowns and looks around at the out of place scene. Orange juice, toast and plates set out on the table with silverware.

"Shouldn't you be at work?"

"I'm going in late," she smiles over her shoulder at him. "Sit down. I'll drive you after."

He knows she feels guilty every now and then that he's alone so often and makes him breakfast but he has a feeling this was going to be the talk he'd avoided the previous night.

He sits at the table and quickly texts Dean and Charlie that he won't be there early with the buses so they don't hang around waiting at his locker for him.

When she puts his plate in front of him and sits down, Castiel looks up warily. "I just wasn't hungry last night," he tries to cut to the end of this conversation.

"That's fine but you were late without calling and you ignored your Uncle trying to talk to you."

"I had a headache."

She frowns and just looks at him. He sighs and offers, "Okay, I'll apologize."

"Sunday? You can tell him at church."

Castiel inwardly groans but nods.

"Good. Now eat your breakfast, honey."

The rest of the breakfast goes quick but pleasant. She asks more about Dean and what they did all day. He finds he doesn't want to tell her about driving. It might make her feel bad and he definitely wasn't telling her about the drinking so he was left making up a story about videogames. She smiles and tells him what a polite and handsome young man Dean was. Castiel stares at his eggs like his life depends on it and tries very hard not to blush.

He gets to class just as the bell rings and sits towards the back without looking towards the right side of the class where Michael and his few friends always sit. He'd almost completely forgotten about his run in on Friday until he'd stepped through the door. It seemed so much further away and less important with Sunday still so fresh.

He doubted Michael would say or do anything in public like this but he wasn't particularly excited about another confrontation. He made his stand and now all he had to do was avoid him the rest of the year. Simple. Everything was fine. What could he do without exposing himself? Everything would be fine, dammit. If he repeated it enough maybe it'd be true.

Only about twenty minutes of Trig passes before it's interrupted by the crackle pop of the aging intercom system. The nasally voice of the office secretary begins and they all elevate their eyes as if they can see the person speaking somehow.

"Good Morning, Students! As you are aware, the Homecoming Game is this Friday, followed by the Homecoming Dance Saturday. This morning we're having our Pep Rally in the Gym from 09:15 to 10am to kick off another great year and of course Lawrence High's All-State Champions. Gooo Lions!"

After another cringe-worthy click, she's gone and everyone looks back to the teacher, who continues speaking right where his sentence left off as if there had never been an interruption. It's 9 now so he'll probably go right to the minute.

The intercom abruptly comes back on. "Also a reminder, Tickets will still be on sale in the cafeteria all week during all lunch periods."

gives the intercom a contemptuous look then waits a moment before beginning once more.

Great. A pep rally. His eyes stray to the other side of the room and he notices Michael talking animatedly with a boy behind him in a letter jacket. Well good, maybe if he was happy about all the attention, he would leave him alone.

At 09:14, Mr. Crowley puts down his chalk and everyone looks expectantly at the him. He takes his time, fixing his eyes on a point at the ceiling for probably half a minute before eventually lowering them to finally acknowledging the 30 students waiting.

"Apparently our beloved school seems to think gathering you into the gym to beat your chests is worthy of interrupting my lesson. I am truly terrified for the future." He looks around the class slowly and sarcastically adds, "Rah. Rah. Go. Team."

"So can we go?" some girl in the first row meekly asks while he looks down his nose at her.

Finally, he sighs. "Dismissed."

Castiel shuffles out of class without looking back. Michael doesn't grab him or anything and that gives him a little hope everything would go back to normal in that area. Michael could go back to ignoring his existence and just be the beautiful popular jock that lonely introverts worship from afar. Everything had been so much simpler then.

He walks with the mass crowd making their way towards the gym. As with any assembly, it's a chaotic mess of over-excited students who are just happy to be out of class. Everyone searches for their group of friends, several waving from the indoor bleachers where they've already saved spots. Blue and White balloons, hand painted banners, and streamers cover the walls in an annoying amount of school pride.

Castiel absolutely hates these things, always worrying over where to sit. He feels panicky while people flow around him like a rock in a stream. Is Charlie already here? Should he just sit down somewhere and wait for her and try and find her in the mass of other kids? He hangs back for a moment at the entrance, hoping to see a flash of red hair or spot her in the students filling in the bleachers Instead, across the basketball court he sees a familiar group. After only a few seconds, he picks him out.

Dean's in a loose circle kicking that silly ball up. He catches Castiel's eyes and he gives a small wave. Dean smiles and waves back, unfortunately missing a pass and causing the ball to thump him in the face. His friends laugh and even from here he can see Dean rubbing the back of his neck the way he does when he's embarrassed.

Smiling to himself, Castiel starts walking toward him when someone steps right in front of him. He steps back quickly. "Oh I'm sor-"

Michael raises an eyebrow, not exactly smiling. He just freezes for a moment, waiting to see what he'll do. At his side, his girlfriend sneers, "Um, move?" She's decked out in her cheerleading uniform with blue and white hair ribbons dangling from a high perfect blonde ponytail and matching blue lipstick.

"Yeah move it, bitch. I know I'm hot and all but I don't need you creaming your pants over me."

Cheeks hot, Castiel hears another voice coming from just past Michael's shoulder. One of the other jocks that always taunts him. "Ohhh look, it's the twink."

He really hated that term.

Without another word, he tries to move around the now three boys standing roughly in a line.

"Hey where you goin', queer?" Michael catches his shoulder, pushing him back in front of them. "In a hurry to be on your knees?"

Grinding his teeth, Castiel says, "Please just leave me alone."

The barrel-chested one pushes him back once again with hard fingers to his sternum. "Oh _please_? You like to beg?"

Shauna is giggling meanly. Other girls with her glance up from their phones now to notice the spectacle. Michael used to ignore the catcalls and jeers but he isn't ignoring them now and the boys circle, feeding off his example. Raphael, Brady, two others he's never spoken to in his life snicker and pretend to ignore he's there until he tries to leave.

Bowing his head, Castiel tries to push through several more times but someone always pushes his shoulder whenever he tries to get past, their fingers stiff and jabbing. He really hopes he doesn't cry but he's so angry he's shaking. Castiel actually shoves one away and they shove back harder, this time almost knocking him to the ground. Balling his fist, he clenches his jaw, ready to actually do this. He's going to hit one of them even though it'll mean the asskicking of a lifetime.

Just as he's about to close his eyes and go for it, someone brushes past him.

"What the fuck-"

He looks up in time to see Dean grab Michael roughly by the collar and haul him almost off his feet to throw against the nearby gym wall.

"Leave 'em alone." Dean's voice is low and gruff as he growls it mere inches away from the other boy.

All the other jocks just stand there and stare for a second, clearly taken off guard. One asks, "What's your problem? We were just having some fun with him." .

"Cas? Were you havin' fun?" Dean calls over his shoulder at him without taking his eyes off Michael.

Swallowing his shock, Castiel hopes his voice is steady when he answers, "No. I wasn't."

After a tense second, Michael laughs. "This your girlfriend, Novak?" He shoves Dean a step back and straightens his jersey. "Need to tell him to back the hell off."

Dean's still too close, keeping Michael's attention on him. "Make a move, Dickbag. You gotta do something, I'm waitin'."

Michael lifts his chin, narrowing his eyes. His huge friend finally appears at his side and its obvious he finds his confidence again. His smirk is back.

"Gotta thing for this faggot, Winchester?"

Dean smiles and shrugs. "He grows on ya. Call him that again and you're gonna be picking your teeth outta your pal's hair."

Castiel's breathing hitches. He should stop this. He should definitely probably stop this. He can revel and gush later but Michael is obviously working himself up to doing something. Too many eyes are watching. If they fight, he doubted Michael would be the one suspended. Where are the teachers? He frantically tears his eyes away to look around but most are gathered at the other end of the gym near a podium, shuffling papers and looking harried at the task of the upcoming assembly. Too many people are blocking their view.

"You?" Dean's question draws back his attention.

Michael scrunches his face in confusion. "What?"

"Blue eyes and stubble do it for ya? All this attention you're givin' him… people'll start to talk, ya know."

"What the fuck you trying to say?"

His girlfriend makes an angry squeak . Guys, both jocks and otherwise, make, "Ohhh" sounds.

"I'd never… did he… 'cause that's- that's bullshit!"

There's an awful strained air where everyone stares at Michael's overreaction, several laughing and turning away as if to make it less obvious. He's spluttering terribly and Castiel almost winces for him. Almost.

Finally he manages, "You're fucking dead."

Dean just smiles like he isn't worried in the least. Even though Castiel's heart is beating a mile a minute in fear for him, that cocky careless grin makes his stomach tighten and flip all at once. "Yeah you guys like to do a lot of talkin' and pushin' but that's all it is, huh? Whole lotta nothin'."

"Dean." Neither of them look his way, when Castiel tries to get his attention. They're too wrapped up in some primitive tough guy standoff. The big one to Michael's right shuffles forward like he's considering charging and Dean notices.

"Come on, Princess. I'll take care of you too."

Thankfully, Benny pushes through the ring of gathering bodies and is suddenly beside Dean. "Hey been looking for you guys. Problem, Mike?" Benny's in his jersey just like the other four and even though he's not saying it outright, it's obvious that he's here to back up the lone skater rather than the jocks.

A second later, Ash strides up on Dean's other side and does an ironic little wave. "Yo." Castiel almost jumps when he feels an arm loop through his. Surprisingly, it's Jo who gives him a small smile and looks back to the boys squaring off.

Michael weighs the odds and looks around again at all the people staring then settles back on Benny. "You seriously steppin' up against a teammate? For this little bitch?"

Castiel thought Dean looked anything but little next to Michael but now probably wasn't the time to say so and draw attention to himself.

"Hey I'm cool, brother, but if fists start flyin' I'm not lettin' my boy go down alone."

Brady, one of the guys in a letterman jacket that had been all too eager to play when they were just shoving him, looks antsy now. He put a hand on Michael's arm. "Come on. Let's go."

Michael jerks out of the other guys hold and takes another step forward, almost nose to nose with Dean. Benny braces an arm out to keep another jock from moving forward and interfering. "Hey! It's over."

Ash shakes his head. "Man, you boys are way too pent up. Shouldn't all that running and bashing into each other help simmer ya down a bit? Maybe try hockey next."

Brady starts backing away and pulls at Michael's jersey. "Come on. Coach'll have our ass if we do this here. They're gonna call us up front soon anyway."

"Yeah alright." He finally says and makes sure to smile threateningly at Dean. "I'll catch ya later, Winchester."

Dean puckers his lips and tips his chin. "You bet, Beefy."

Castiel never thought he'd be one for aggressive power plays, but when Dean turns and winks at him, he worries he might get hard right there. The whole thing had been so surreal and now he's left standing there, fidgeting. Had that really just happened?

A few bystanders clap and whistle as if it had been a show before dispersing; more boo at the lack of a fight. He remembers Jo is attached to him when she reaches up to kiss his cheek then walks away. He hates himself a little for every bad thought he's ever had about her. Dean walks up to him, throws an arm around his neck in a loose headlock and pulls him along in his wake. Benny and Ash fall alongside them.

"Come on, NerdAngel. We're about to play that game of hacky sack you own me."

"Man, what was that about?" Ash asks, looking back over his shoulder at the way the pack of football players went.

"Nothin'." Dean swats his free hand at Benny's arm, smirking. "Just asshole jocks."

"Hey! Watch it. I saved your ass." Benny smacks him back in the gut.

"I can save my own ass, thank you very much." Dean lets him go to have their friendly scuffle until Benny has to say goodbye to meet up with the rest of the team.

Ten minutes later and students are still milling around while the last of the classes file in. The disorganized group of teachers and guidance counselor's that have nominated themselves as "School Spirit Leaders" are at one end of the basketball court with a podium. They have the cheerleaders and all the jocks sitting along the bottom row of the closest bleachers.

Castiel is currently at the complete opposite end of the gym with all those people he used to turn up his nose at. All the people with flamboyantly-colored hair and piercings, clothing pieced together with safety pins and baggy jeans. Backpacks with writing, patches and stickers litter the ground around them. They're all there and he's right in the middle of them with Dean across from him. And he's completely happy there.

Hacky sack is a stupid game. He has no coordination for it, but Dean still lets him play. Well, _makes_ him play but after what he'd just done for him, Castiel wasn't complaining too hard. Dean only gave him one unhelpful rule, don't use your hands, before throwing the ball up and kicking it his way. Predictably, it hadn't gone well but it was something to do rather than think about everyone that was probably talking about the little show he'd been a part of. People had to be whispering all over the gym by now about it and it helped to just focus on trying to keep a stupid small beanbag ball moving like Dean showed him. He might even allow a nervous laugh once or twice.

Charlie pops up to his left right after he kicks it way too hard towards Ash. "Dude."

"I'm sorry, Dean is making me play," he says grimacing.

When Dean just laughs, Ash holds the ball between his feet before spinning around while jumping mid air to send it hurling towards him. Okay, that was a little impressive.

"What's this I'm hearing about a jock showdown over you?!" Charlie practically punches him in the arm to get his attention.

Castiel blushes but shrugs, trying to predict when the ball will come to him.

"I'm late for five minutes and I miss Dean totally rescuing you like a damsel? Sucky History strikes again. Jacobs needs to turn her hearing aid up. I missed everything!"

Frowning at her, he says, "I am not a damsel."

Dean knocks the ball towards him and it bounces off his shoulder. He directs his frown to him but he just smirks. "Pay attention, _Damsel_."

Pamela comes close to put an arm around Dean's neck and lays her head on his shoulder. "Yes, what a brave boy you are. Heroes deserve prizes, Baby."

He laughs, not doing anything to discourage her practically hanging on him.

"You okay?" Charlie asks a little lower.

Fine," he says distractedly. "Why wouldn't I be?" Castiel presses his lips, kicking up the ball and in a surprisingly well-aimed hit, getting Dean right on the chin.

"Pay attention," he says innocently, tilting his head.

"Hey, not bad," Ash pats him on the arm.

Dean raises an eyebrow but moves out from under her arm. "Come on, let's find some seats. Hopefully they get this crap over with quick."

"Cheerleaders being cheery is never crap," Charlie pushes him aside to walk by, pretending she's offended.

Dean rolls his eyes and pockets the ball, following her to the corner of the bleachers his friends had saved. Castiel falls in line behind him going up the stairs, momentarily pleased that Pamela has to find a seat above them since Dean sat next to Charlie and he followed to sit at his other side. A few others, Castiel's beginning to know by sight, wave or say hey and he nods in return. It's odd but it's starting to feel a little comfortable here amongst them.

The Vice Principal laughingly apologizes into the mic for the delay and begins by repeating the announcement about where to buy tickets for the game and dance. After a few other preliminary words and introductions, the cheer captain calls the rest of the squad up to do some pre-planned presentation.

Dean whispers, eyes on the cheerleaders, "So why'd jockstrap start roughing you up? Thought you guys were all buddy buddy."

Leaning closer, he murmurs, "Well, I refused to do his homework anymore."

Dean grins and bumps his shoulder with his own. "Good job. I'm proud of ya."

Castiel smiles small. Despite how awful and embarrassing the confrontation had been, it was worth it. He feels better for it and resolves not letting anyone use him like that again. And Dean going all macho hulk on his behalf wasn't something he particularly hated.

"Thank you by the way."

He probably should have said that right after it happened.

"It was nothin'.

Castiel darts a glance at his profile then away. "Not that I couldn't have handled it." He feels the need to say even though he obviously couldn't.

"I know," Dean says easily.

They are made to endure a bunch of girls (that are way too energetic for this early in the morning) jump and flip around to music meant to "pump them up." The school should have known to do this at least after third period. Most students are leaning on their friend's shoulders, still half awake or ignoring all the noise to thumb over their phone screens. Charlie seems to be the only one in their area paying close attention.

When she enthusiastically claps and hoots after they're done, she looks back at them self-consciously. "What? Don't hate on my school spirit."

"Yeah you're really admiring their spirit, huh?" Dean snarks. During another round of half-hearted applause, he digs in his jacket pocket and hands Castiel a folded piece of notebook paper.

"What's this?"

"Just look at it later."

Castiel opens it anyway. His eyes run down the hand-written list before quickly glancing around as if someone might look over his shoulder and see. And know. Taken completely off-guard, he re-folds the paper and tries to stifle the rush of anger.

Whispering harshly back, he bites off, "Dean, I told you I don't want to talk about this! Before… that was a onetime thing. I made that very clear."

That he would bring it up _here_, makes him feel overwhelmingly vulnerable. Exposed. In the bubble of Dean's room when they were exchanging sore spots and absent parents, it had somehow been okay. Here, at school, surrounded by all his peers, it just hurt. Somehow they'd see how messed up he was. His skin feels itchy just thinking about it.

Dean doesn't take his eyes off the now flipping girls, but sighs. "Yeah well we're not talking about it, are we? I'm givin' you a piece a paper I want you to look at. That's all."

Castiel grinds out, "Dean… you can't just-"

"Please, Cas." He turns to him for the first time to face him.

Castiel can't take that hopeful look but that doesn't mean he has to like it. He doesn't answer but stuffs the paper in this pocket in one jerky motion.

When the bell rings he gets up without waiting for Dean or Charlie all but hopping down the many steps and getting lost in the crowd.

At lunch, he sits and lets other people's conversation surround them. After the spectacle Dean made in the gym, his friends were eager to relive it and joke with him. Sitting on his board with arms resting on his bent knees, Dean shoots him wary looks but lets him have his space. The paper burning a hole in his pocket keeps Castiel from enjoying two girl's spontaneous re-enactment for Charlie's benefit. Their voices are comically pitched low while they pretend to growl at each other from a inch away but ultimately they both burst into giggles when the one with purple hair eskimo kisses the other, ruining the supposed tension.

When he gets home, his mom isn't there. She'll be late again. He takes his time in the kitchen, heating a chicken and broccoli hot pocket and getting a bottled water. He even eats it at the table, prolonging the time. His phone chirps and he doesn't look at it.

Twenty minutes later, he's alone in his bedroom, with legs folded on top of his bed and only then does Castiel reach into his pocket to take out the crumpled paper. He smoothes it carefully several times and once again reads Dean's slanty handwriting.

Other Things To Do:

-call/text me

-call/text Charlie

-squeeze ice

-take a cold shower

-write it all out then rip it up

-hold ice to your skin(says it feels like burning)

-mark on skin with red marker

-rip up a book(not a favorite)

-yell into a pillow

-snap your wrist with a rubberband

-call/text me

Castiel worries his lip while he reads them over and over. Dean must have looked up these supposed alternatives from some kind of self-help website or something. He finally looks at the text message he'd heard buzz back when he was eating.

**u still mad?**

He considers, then focuses again on the first and last item on the list. It was arrogant for Dean to think he could solve whatever was wrong with him. As if he was just waiting for him to come along and tell him to stop. And, yes it was also ridiculously sweet.

Dammit, how did he always manage to feel so torn with him?

_**No**_**.**

**sure?**

A small voice in his head supplies that maybe this was why Dean had all of the sudden tried so hard to be his friend. Ever since he saw his arms that day he'd found him crying… maybe he felt responsible for him somehow.  
**  
**_**I just don't like to talk about this.**__**  
**_**  
****i get that**

_**You can't fix me, Dean.**_

**u gonna at least look at it?**

Dean was pushing and it made him feel defensive. This wasn't something he could just stop.

_**I will.**_

He already looked at it but it didn't matter. Like marking his arm with a marker or yelling into a pillow would change anything.

**that's all I ask…****  
**  
Folding the paper back twice along the crease, he places it between the pages of the book on his bedside table.

…**damsel ;)**

Lying back on his pillow, Castiel loosens his tie and tries to decompress from this crazy day. He should really just forget about crushes in highschool. Surely college was a far easier place to meet someone. So far it was just stress, disappointment and heartache. At the beginning of school,. He would have never imagined Michael could.. be like that. He searches for the pain over it but all he feels is a giddy excitement over the memory of Dean's rescue. Rescue. It sounds ridiculously romanticized, like he was some wilting flower. He wasn't. He had been fully prepared to throw a punch and okay probably be bleeding on the floor a minute later. But Dean had stepped in and protected him.

That determined look in his eye. No fear. Dean had stood toe to toe with several Seniors. Big Seniors. For him.

Castiel only hesitates a brief moment before his hand drifts down lower.

Closing his eyes, he imagines it all over again.

_Dean yanks Michael away from him like before but this time he grabs Castiel instead and shoves him up against the gym wall. _

Already almost fully hard, he palms himself through his pants.

_Everyone gasps and gawks but Dean doesn't pay them any attention. He's completely focused on kissing him, hard and demanding. Pamela, Jo, whatever other girls always smile at Dean, they're all just staring in shock and envy. _

Quickly fumbling with his belt, Castiel unzips and starts stroking himself inside his boxers because he can't wait to take off his slacks.

_Dean presses him tight to the wall with his body, holding his face with those big hands. He imagines himself half-heartedly trying to push Dean away just so he'd grab his wrists and slam them back to the hard surface. _

Fuck.

His hand picks up speed and he lifts his hips a little too. For a split second he pretends Dean's on top of him there in his bed, braced above him. It's Dean's fingers wrapped around him while he smiles that cocky grin down at him. Leaning close he rubs his cheek along Castiel's jaw and growls in his ear.

_C'mon, Cas. I've got you. _

Castiel gasps and chokes on his abrupt orgasm that makes his toes curl. He slows his hand and squeezes one last time, blinking his eyes open. Looking down at his soiled shirt in distaste, he lays there a few more blissed out moments before moving to clean up. He could feel guilty later. Right now, he can't make himself care too much.

The next morning, Dean texts to warn he won't make it to his locker. He has to drop off Sam because he's lugging some science project board. He still waits around with Charlie, talking about nothing topics just in case. They set off at a speed walk after the warning bell and he says a hasty goodbye to her before turning the corner to his hall and seeing Michael waiting for him.

His heart skips a second. Michael sees him and the look on his face is anything but friendly. There's no smug sneer. His beautiful features are hard with barely-contained rage. He remembered the gut punch he got when Michael threatened worse if he told anyone. After yesterday's confrontation, he must have figured correctly that he'd told Dean. He should have known that wouldn't have been the end of it but he'd been too caught up in reveling in Dean's overly aggressive defense of him. He hadn't bothered to think of the consequences.

Castiel grips the strap of his messenger bag tight and braces for a fight even though he'd rather run the other way. He had to go to Trig and he was done being bullied. He didn't need Dean to stand up for him. He didn't need anyone.

Even so, he shifts in place for a few more seconds until he builds up the courage to approach the doorway being guarded by an angry jock like a gargoyle. Halfway there, jumps with a balled fist raised when a hand falls on his shoulder from behind.

"Whoa there, Slugger. Just sayin' Hey."

It's Benny of all people. He tries to calm his heart enough to answer. "Sorry. Um, hello."

Benny has to see Michael only a few feet away practically seething but he doesn't acknowledge him. "Could they pick a crappier class for first thing in the mornin'?" He asks it as if they normally exchange small talk when he's only talked to him once as far as he remembers.

Gaping awkwardly for a minute, Castiel tries to recover and sound natural as he answers, "Yes, it's a special kind of torture."

Benny snorts and nods. "Well let's go get this over with then."

A wave of overwhelming gratitude wells up in him as they start walking, Benny keeping his hand lightly on his shoulder as they pass Michael.

"Mornin', Mike."

He follows Castiel to his seat and takes the empty one behind him.

"Cool if I sit here?"

"Um, sure. I don't mind. Sit wherever you want."

He sees Michael out of his peripheral kick his bookbag out of the way as he slumps into his own chair.

Some other girl with a long braid over her shoulder and several beaded bracelets on each wrist comes to sit one row over, a seat back next to Benny. He's seen her before but never talked to her.

Benny taps him on the shoulder as he turns to her. "Andrea, say hey to Cas. He's a friend of Dean's."

She smiles in greeting. "Oh, cool. Hi."

"Hello." He smiles back before turning around again as Mr. Crowley begins speaking.

Michael probably glares the whole class but he feels insulated from it somehow. Whether this was Dean or just Benny looking out for him on his own, absurdly he feels almost like crying right then and there.

When class ends and they all file out, Castiel turns to Benny before he can leave. "Thank you," he says with emphasis.

Benny mouth pulls up at one corner. "Ain't no thing, Brother. We got your back."

* * *

"So um, what is Dean?"

It'd taken all week but Castiel finally worked up the courage to talk to Charlie and as soon as the words were out of his mouth he wanted them back

"What do you mean? I think he's an Aquarius," Charlie says with a glint in her eye as she peels off the top of a strawberry yogurt.

"I mean, is he… do you think he could be Bi?" Castiel darts a look at his best friend then away.

Charlie sighs and mutters something under her breath that sounds like, "finally."

"I know he dated that girl Lisa but do you think... " he trails off.

"First and definitely foremost, I think you skipped a step. Is there anything you want to tell me?" she says in between licking yogurt off her spoon.

Biting the corner of his bottom lip, he answers. "No..."

"Mm hmm."

"Just curious."

"Right. So there's no chance you might possibly maybe totally like him?

"Of course not. Dean is..."

Aggravating. Sweet. Considerate. Starring in some increasingly detailed fantasies of his. Ignoring all the helpful suggestions his mind was throwing at him, Castiel finishes with, "Just no."

Charlie squints at him and he avoids eye contact.

"Yes you do! Castiel Novak, you lying liar! You are completely head over ugly dress shoes for Dean!"

"Lower your voice!" he hisses, glancing towards the group across the courtyard but doesn't see the boy in question.

"Oh please, you could not be more obvious. When you guys talk, you might as well be holding a subtitle card that says 'I heart Dean.' In fact, I could make one for you. I think I have my color pencils."

"I am not obvious. I've been very subtle."

"What will your couple name be? Das? Destiel? Wovak?"

"Will you- You're getting excited for nothing. He probably doesn't even… I mean, just forget I said anything."

Where he was all too ready to pick out the many reasons Michael had to be gay, he was just as uneasy and nervous to be discussing Dean's preferences. It felt like somehow he was making a mistake he wouldn't be able to take back all over again and it was going to end just as badly.

"Ughhh!" Charlie shakes her head in apparent exasperation. Snapping like she just thought of something, she says, "Oh here's an idea. Why don't you ask him?" She grins at her very unhelpful suggestion.

"I can't just..." he makes a helpless gesture towards the group of Dean's friends.

"Just…what?" Charlie raises her eyebrows and balls hers fist like she's trying to hold herself back. "Just ask your good friend Dean whether he might ride the fence a little? I'm sure it'll be an interesting conversation."

Sighing, he says, "I'm supposed to just go up to him and ask."

"That's my brilliant plan. Like it? Simple. Easy to remember."

"People don't just ask."

"People that want to know do."

Did he want to know? Yes. Absolutely. Would that mean all the little touches and smiles meant more? It terrified him all at once to think it might.

"Also its Friday so if it goes super bad you have two days for it to get less awkward." She quickly adds, "Not that it'll go bad!"

"Sometimes I just feel like there's something happening between us but what if it's only me?" In the moments they were staring at each other a little too long or Dean had touched his hand… when he was drunk he remembered stretching because he knew Dean would look. And he had. "What if I-"

"Just _talk_ to him," she says like it's the answer to the universe, gesturing with her hands out toward him. "Then you'll know. Sometimes being brave is all it takes."

"Bravery is not a trait I have an abundance of."

"Cas," she sighs. "This isn't something I can do for you no matter how much I really really want to. And what fence-riding boy wouldn't be interested in my best friend? Look at you, you're dreamy."

"And you're biased."

"No just…" she growls in frustration. "Ok another way to look at it. There's three possible outcomes here. One: Bad. Dean freaks out."

He winces and she waves that away before quickly pressing on.

"Two: Good. Dean doesn't feel that way but now you know. You move on."

Why had he brought this up? He should have just continued suffering in silence instead of suffering with an audience.

"Three: Awesome! Dean's into you. You guys kiss and cuddle and you get a couple name-"

"Okay, I understand."

"Now you know Dean's not gonna freak out on you. He's your friend. So that just leaves good or awesome!"

Castiel sighs heavily at her over-exuberance, slouching so his elbows rest on his knees. "You make it sound so simple." Just talking about this with Charlie made his stomach roll with nausea. He would never be able to do what she was suggesting.

"It is. What if, okay what if this is like spiders."

"What?" He looks at her completely lost.

Charlie sets her yogurt down. "I see a spider and totally wig out but really that spider is terrified of me. I probably look like a giant red dragon to him. Maybe Dean's like the um spider and uh… just as scared too? Sorry I lost the metaphor somewhere in there. Anyway, I think you should talk to the spider."

Seeing his indecisive lip-chewing, Charlie sighs. "Or we could waste two months stalking him and building up evidence, but seeing how that turned out..."

Castiel scowls at the reminder of Michael. "Dean is nothing like that- that assbutt!"

"Wow. Harsh words." Dean snickers, coming up behind them and startling Castiel into whirling around and almost falling off the bench. Dean grabs him, catching his shirt just in time.

"Whoa, Cas buddy. Ya alright?"

Buddy. Castiel narrows his eyes and forgets his fright that he might have heard the beginning part of that sentence. Buddy. Perfect.

"Uh, hi Dean!" Charlie says too cheerily to fill the silence of Castiel just staring.

"Hey," he comes around to drop his board on the ground in front of them and sit on it. "You know that chick Bela? Goes to that fancy schmancy private school with Dory?"

"Um, maybe? Tall, pretty, kinda scary when she smiles?"

"Bingo."

How had he found himself here, watching Dean talk to Charlie and feeling butterflies? He had deplorable choices in clothing. Flannels. Old tshirts. Even a stupid wallet chain. God, he was just so...

"So, Cas?"

And that honey-colored scruff that infected his daydreams. Freckles. Stupid ridiculous freckles. How could freckles be sexy?

"Hey, Earth to Cas."

"Hmm?" He raises his eyes to see Dean's attention is on him.

"You listenin' or someone hit your off switch?"

A surge of hurt bubbles up out of nowhere. Getting to his feet, he growls, "I am not a robot!" The anger in his voice surprises them both. "I have feelings. And emotions. Just because I don't feel the need to have ridiculous outbursts all the time…"

And belatedly, he realizes like he's doing right now but he can't seem to stop.

"Cas? What the hell…"

Abruptly, he turns and walks quickly away before he can embarrass himself anymore.

Stupid. That was so damn stupid. He's suddenly so angry at himself he can't take it. What was wrong with him? Charlie catches up with him when he turns the second hallway. "Hey" she calls, running in front of him and stopping him with a hand to his chest. She breathes hard while he stubbornly glares at the tile.

"Talking. You… Me… Now," she gasps.

Castiel closes his fists around the ends of his sleeves, rubbing his thumb over the buttons. Charlie coughs one last time before stubbornly folding her arms and waiting for him to speak.

He quietly asks, "Dean?"

"He left. I think he was just, ya know, confused? What happened?"

Sighing, Castiel shuts his eyes. "I don't know."

"He was joking. You know that."

He didn't know. Not completely and that ate at him. It was nothing Dean hadn't said before, but where it used to just roll off his back, this time it had stung.

"What if he wasn't?" His voice was small. "What if I'm seeing what I want to see and he doesn't..."

Charlie dips her head to catch his eyes and reaches down to squeeze his hand once.

"Stop with the what-ifs, Dork. If nothing else, he's your friend."

"I know… what do I do?" he groans, rubbing his temples in an attempt to stave off the oncoming headache.

"Well first you go crawling back and say sorry for biting his head off."

"And then?"

"You could always offer to buy him a cherry slushie."

He gives her a skeptical look.

"Hey it worked for me."

There's still five minutes left of lunch by the time Charlie drags him back out to the courtyard. He should have gone another way. If he hadn't picked such a predictable escape route, Charlie wouldn't have found him and he could have avoided this conversation he was now about to have. Maybe he would have just avoided Dean until the end of the school year. That seemed like a perfectly marvelous idea at the moment.

"Go." Charlie gives him a push to get him going. When he glances back at her and hesitates, she shakes her head. "Don't give me those puppy eyes. Man up, Novak."

Dean's back over with his friends and when he sees Castiel coming, he reaches into his pocket and tosses that hacky sack ball up in the air, concentrating on keeping it bouncing from one knee to the other. Obviously he wasn't going to make this easy.

With one last pleading look to an unrelenting best friend, Castiel marches over to the big scary cluster of people. Some he knows, most he doesn't. He catches sight of Jo, Ash, Pam who he doesn't like without a good reason, Andrea and Benny.

Dean stays focused on keeping the ball moving even when he's right next to him.

"Dean," he says quietly, trying to draw as little attention of the on-lookers as possible.

"Cas," he answers, still preoccupied.

His friends go about their business but he feels them glancing at him and Benny elbows a guy near him Castiel thinks is named Victor. With the audience he already feels on edge so he keeps it short.

"So, I apologize." It comes out sounding defensive.

"Forget it," Dean says still not looking at him. "Getting kinda used to it actually."

That hurts. Sure he used to think nothing of bitterly sniping back at Dean but it hadn't been that way between them for quite a while. Castiel sighs, not knowing how to tell him why he stormed off angry, not entirely understanding himself. He hates that Dean is purposefully not even acknowledging him.

When Dean kicks the ball up particularly high, Castiel reaches out and catches it mid-air, forcing him to stop and look at him.

They stare at one another for a tense few couple of seconds before Castiel slowly and sincerely repeats, "I'm sorry, Dean."

Dean's eyes do a little tour of his face. "You're sorry."

Castiel shrugs. "I could say it in French if you like."

The corner of Dean's mouth pulls up like he's fighting to stop it. Folding his arms, he says, "Alright, let's hear it in French."

"Je Suis désolé."

"Damn. Sounds so pretty, guess I gotta forgive you."

Feeling the relief that the hard part was over, Castiel tries to joke, "It really is your only option."

He hands the ball back and Dean holds his hand around it with their fingers overlapping for a second too long before taking it. Sucking in a quick breath, Castiel begins to backtrack feeling like all of his courage was spent.

"Well, um goodbye then."

"Hey, Pam's friend Bela is throwing this party tomorrow night. Kinda like an Anti-Homecoming." Dean tosses the ball up again and goes back to focusing on it. "If you wanted to go, I could pick you up."

"Oh, um.. s-sure. I guess-" Castiel bumps into the black clad Pamela backing up and she rights him.

"Whoa there, Cutie. You ok?"

"Yes, sorry," he murmurs and hurries away, face flaming.

Breaking away from talking with Jo, Charlie appears at his side as he walks back into the school. He couldn't stand to be in the courtyard a moment longer with all those eyes on him. "Well that could have gone smoother but points for bravery."

"Do you want to go to a party Saturday?" he abruptly asks.

Scrunching her face, Charlie gives him an incredulous look. "Do _you_?"

"Dean's going to be there and he uh invited me, I guess?"

Charlie shakes her head. "Boys. You guys are making this way too complicated."

"You don't have to come," he says quickly but knows without her he probably won't go.

"No, no. I went through your football phase. At least this is something I can get behind. Dory texted to say she's going anyway."

"Okay."

His stomach immediately starts twisting in knots. Was he seriously going to a party tomorrow? With Dean? What do people do at parties? Drink and dance if television was anything to go by. He didn't plan on doing either of those. Should he not go then? He probably would just end up sitting in a corner somewhere anyway.

"Are we meeting there or-"

"Dean's driving us."

"Us?"

Castiel turns to her. "Us."

Waggling her eyebrows, Charlie asks, "From the way he was talking when you zoned out earlier, kinda think he meant just you and him. I can get a ride on Dory's bike. And if you go alone maaaybe you guys could have that talk?"

"No!" he practically chokes on his sudden panic. "No, definitely come."

If he was going to be talking with spiders, he needed his best friend at his side.

* * *

**Author's Note:****For being such lovely, patient readers, I'm posting another chapter tomorrow! Yay! I might as well call it the Party chapter. See you soon!**


	8. Chapter 8

Castiel marches out of his room and across to Gabriel's for the fifteenth time that hour. Standing in front of the full length mirror, he holds up yet another shirt in front of chest, this time a white polo with light grey vertical stripes. Scoffing in disgust, he tosses it in the pile of discards on the floor.

"Are you okay, honey?" his mother asks, smiling knowingly. She'd been standing in the hallway watching him pace between rooms for who knows how long.

"Yes." Holding up one of Gabriel's shirts, he frowns at the mirror bleakly. It was useless, everything he wore either looked not like him or too much like him. "Fine." He throws down the shirt and stomps back to his room.

"You're sure? You seem... restless."

"I just want to look nice."

"I'm sure Charlie thinks you look very nice in whatever you wear."

He scrunches his face in momentary confusion before quickly remembering he said he was going to Homecoming with Charlie tonight. He wasn't the best liar so it seemed smart to keep it simple and pretend he was going to the big dance even though it was the last thing he'd ever do. His mom had seemed surprised but enthusiastic, asking if she could take pictures of them He couldn't exactly say he was going to a party where there would undoubtedly be drinking and a boy he wanted very much to kiss until his lips were numb.

"Well… I want to look extra nice tonight," Castiel says without really listening to his own words. He's such a bundle of nerves he can only think of horrible scenarios where he has to dance or he's left alone to awkwardly fidget all night.

"Just don't stay out too late." She kisses his forehead while he's frowning at another shirt. He misses the grin on his mother's face as she walks away to give him space to quietly have a panic attack.

The rest of Saturday is spent getting a second shower, fighting to flatten his hair as best he can with some gel and hating every piece of clothing he owned.

By the time Charlie knocks on his door at 8, he's frantic. He has four ties draped around his neck, and a white shirt on with black slacks. It was like what he always wears but the jeans reminded him of trying to impress Michael and he didn't feel comfortable in them.

"I don't know which one to wear!" he says, breathlessly.

Charlie tilts her head then picks up the bright blue tie. "This one."

His head jerks down to inspect it then back up to ask, "You're sure?"

"Yep. Matches your eyes."

He looks her up and down finally noticing the pretty green dress that falls mid-thigh with beaded fringe, almost like a 20's flapper dress. "You look amazing."

"Thanks!" Charlie does a little twirl to show it off. "It's my mom's."

Turning back, she grabs his hand. "Now stop panicking. Your eyes keep going all buggy. You look fabulous. Let's go, Dean'll be here any minute."

"Okay…" he breathes out, trying not to be cynical about getting a pep talk. Quickly knotting the tie as he walks towards the back door then turns at the last minute to yell, "I'm leaving! Bye, Mom!"

"Charlie!" His mother's voice booms in excitement as she enters the kitchen. Damn, if only they'd been a little faster. "Your dress is beautiful!"

"Thank you, Ms. Novak."

His mom gives her a long hug and Castiel tries not to just growl in impatience. Only a little longer and they'd be gone. Not that his nerves would be any better when he was in Dean's car.

He turns towards the door when the Impala's engine can be faintly heard outside.

"Mom, that's Dean."

"I know, I know." She pulls back from Charlie tabbing her eyes for some reason and produces a camera from behind her back.

"Mom..."

"Oh shush. Stand together."

Castiel almost starts rubbing his temples at the ridiculousness of this but dutifully does.

"Closer," his mom singsongs.

Charlie wraps her arm around his shoulders and leans into him. Finally his mother smiles behind the camera and takes several quick pictures while he tries his best to not look like he's about to crawl out of his skin.

"Okay. Mom, we really have to go now."

"Oh alright. I don't know why Dean has to take you though. You know I can-"

"We're fine. Goodbye!" he quickly says while grabbing Charlie's hand and tugging her out the door.

"Bye, Ms. Novak!" she laughs and struggles to wave while being pulled along.

"Have fun!"

Dean is standing in the space of his open driver's door with arms folded over top of the car. He has on a brown leather jacket over what looks like a dark red button up shirt.

Dean only seems surprised for a second at seeing Charlie as well before grinning and telling them to get in. She shoves him towards the passenger seat. "Cas called shotgun!"

He glares over his shoulder at her but she just gives him a thumbs up. When he gets in, he notices Sam is already in the back focused on his phone.

"Hey, Cas." he says without looking up.

"Hello, Sam."

"Sammy," Charlie calls, closing her door.

"Don't call me that," he glances up, smiling at her as she buckles up next to him.

"SamBear?"

"Nope."

"Samsquatch?"

"Hey, I'm keepin' that one." Dean laughs as he turns the key.

Being acutely aware of every inch between them, Castiel stares straight ahead out the windshield even though he feels Dean's eyes on him. The car pulls away from his house and he focuses on bunching his fingers in his slacks.

Dean's little brother is only with them a few minutes before being dropped off outside a pretty blue two-story house with orderly flowerbeds lining its base. Sam leans over the front seat to see himself in the rearview mirror, haphazardly running fingers through his hair.

"Ah leave it alone. Bet she loves that girly mop."

"Shut up, Jerk!" Sam smacks his brother in the ear and scurries out the open door before Dean can make a grab for him. Dean reaches over the backseat but misses him.

"Bitch!" he yells after him through the rolled down window. He snickers and says, "First girlfriend. They grow up so fast."

Castiel smiles stiffly before turning back to the windshield.

"I'm glad I'm an only child," Charlie says, unplastering herself from her door.

After about fifteen minutes of driving they park along a curb and get out to walk. It's dark outside by now but there's plenty of street lamps evenly spaced to give the neighborhood a glow. All the houses on this block are tall and tasteful designed with faux balconies, little decorative lights lining walkways to their doors, not a tree or flower out of place.

Charlie whistles, looking around at the houses. "Someone has money."

As they walk up the street, Castiel almost tilts his head to the side when he notices Dean is wearing fitted jeans for once. He looks away just as Dean turns towards him, "What?"

"I didn't say anything," he clears his throat and turns to Charlie who laces her arm through his. They follow a few other kids on their way to the right house. Faint music thumps from inside, making it clear this was it.

Once inside, they pause at the doorway taking in the group of over 50 people walking in and out of a large main room with a tall pointed ceiling. A hallway breaks off to the left under the staircase and further to the right is an open door to what he assumed would be a kitchen. Even in the spacious area, it's crowded already. Dean takes off his jacket and throws it over a banister of the curving set of stairs.

"Dory!' Charlie hops up and down waving to her girlfriend across the room. ""Ugh, she can't see me and I'm looking so cute! Be back."

Castiel almost makes a grab for her arm to stop her. He wasn't expecting to be abandoned so quickly.

He turns to smile awkwardly at Dean.

"You okay?"

"Yes. Why wouldn't I be?"

"You just seem… quiet."

"Hard to be otherwise in all this noise, " he tries to joke but truthfully the loud music and large group of people is making him feel a little suffocated.

"Yeah, Bela likes this pop crap. I'll try to slip something else on later."

The conversation lulls again and Castiel turns back to the crowd of people. Some he knows by sight from school, a good portion are new faces. Most of the girls dressed as if they were going to a club or something, short skirts or tight dresses. The boys are all in regular torn up jeans and faded tshirts or a few have on button ups with short sleeves as if it's the most they'd dress up for an Anti-Homecoming party.

No one wore a suit or one of those formal dresses that went to the floor. He suddenly feels out of place now in his slacks and tie. He should have worn the damn jeans. Michael's words from forever ago resound in thoughts.

_Uptight. Loosen Up._

He's pulled out of his spiraling self-consciousness when a cultured female voice carries over the music.

"Welcome, welcome. Beverages in the kitchen… " calls a tall slinky brunette in a sinfully short black dress dancing their way. When she's right in front of them, she puts her hands on her hips and eyes him up and down, making Castiel look to Dean in confusion.

"This is our host. Bela," Dean says, not sounding too enthusiastic at her appearance.

"Mmm," she runs a finger down Castiel's arm. "And who are you?"

The predatory way she's evaluating him, is disconcerting to say the least. "I… uh, I'm-"

Dean tugs him backwards next to him. "He don't swing your way so you can stop eying him like a piece a meat."

"Pity," she sighs and smiles. "Dean can tell you… we could have a lot of fun."

Castiel doesn't look at Dean, but follows when he just walks off without another word. When he catches up to him, grabbing a beer in the kitchen, he says, "it was one time. It was a mistake. Don't ask about it."

"I'm not." Castiel tries to seem casual as he leans back against the counter top, watching Dean angrily twist the cap of his beer off.

The last thing he wanted was to know more about him and that girl who looked like she'd eat him for breakfast. How many girls had he… Nevermind. Castiel decides he doesn't want to follow that thought. He'd only kissed one person, but he can't expect everyone to be so… inexperienced. A small curl of something bitter tries to take hold but he shoves it down.

Dean greets a small group of people passing through the kitchen as they grab solo cups and head out again. Through the open doorway, he can see Charlie and Dory dancing to the fast energetic pop beat. Her red hair twirls as they spin, Dory attempting to dip her. He can hear her familiar laugh from here and smiles at it.

After another of Dean's friend's leave, they're left alone again.

The silence immediately becomes obvious and they both stare at the floor. He should say something. It's too quiet. What's a nice neutral topic?

"Hungry?"

Castiel looks up. "Uh, no. Are you?"

"Nah."

He nods and goes back to shifting in place.

Dean rolls the brown bottle between his hands idly before asking, "Oh, uh wanna beer?"

Snorting, he immediately answers, "No, definitely not." All he needed was to be a babbling fool in front of a house full of strangers.

"Aw but you were so affectionate last time," Dean teases.

"Stop." Castiel smiles, rolling his eyes. Actually thinking of something to say, he asks, "Where's Benny?"

"Ah see, some of my friends are so bad, right?"

"Yes, he's great." He didn't know how to sum up the gratitude he'd felt for having Benny around lately. "I like him a lot."

Dean frowns and rushes to fix that. "No, not… you know, like as in a friend. I think we're friends anyway."

Seeming mollified, Dean grunts, "Good. 'Cause Andrea would kill you if you got hung up on him. They're at the dance. She wanted to go and he's kind of a teddybear when it comes to her. They might stop by later though."

Castiel nods. Now that Dean isn't wearing his jacket, he takes time to notice the more fitted clothing in side-ways glances.

"You look nice." Did he just say that? He almost certainly is blushing so he rushes to add, "I mean, without the... baggy stuff."

Dean looks down at himself and shrugs, pinching at his shirt a little sheepishly. "Yeah ya know, tried to do something different."

Castiel's eyes lower to his own clothing again. The same slacks, dress shirt, tie combo he'd been wearing for years.

"Hiya, boys," Pamela walks through the kitchen in a tight black shirt with a scoop neck and dark jeans that hug her curves. She reaches around Dean to get a drink, stepping purposely closer than Castiel thought was absolutely necessary. She winks at him on her slow pass by with Dean following her with his eyes.

"She's… friendly," he ventures, trying to gauge Dean's expression.

"Yeah," he shrugs and takes a few swallows of beer before setting it down on the counter.

Insecurity peaking, Castiel fidgets a few more seconds before getting irritated by all the silence. "Dean, can I ask you a question?"

He straightens a little and clears his throat. "Okay, shoot."

"How do you see me?

"Uh, whatdya mean?" he asks suddenly not looking right at him anymore.

"Do you think I look stupid?"

"What?" Whatever he was expecting it was clear this hadn't been it. "Come on, Cas, what kind of question is that?"

"I want your complete honesty. The way I dress, is it... Michael said maybe I should-"

"Is he messing with you again?" Dean takes a step forward, already angry.

"No, no. This was before. But maybe he was right." He looks back towards the open doorway of dancing bodies.

"Cas, you look fine. It's just... you. I like it."

Castiel still worries his lip, looking at his hands.

"But can I maybe try something?"

He looks up skeptically.

Dean takes another step forward and reaches towards him, making Castiel flinch. He laughs a little nervously. "Promise it won't hurt."

Castiel grips the counter behind him, and makes himself hold still while Dean stands in front of him and undoes the first button of his shirt. Then he grabs his wrist and pops the button before rolling the cuff of his sleeve up towards his elbow. Castiel watches, swallowing nervously and trying not to pull away. Dean meets his eyes briefly before doing the same to the other sleeve. Pausing a moment to consider, he reaches forward and pulls his tie a little loose so it's slung lower.

The urge to step back is overwhelming but there's nowhere to go. He's already pressed tight to the counter. Dean's chewing his lip, eying his hair, and Castiel can't help staring at his mouth. He's so close. Too close.

The hair he always battles to slick down, Dean sifts his fingers through, rubbing his palms back and forth over it a few times. He bites his cheek not to move or do something stupid like lean into that touch.

Dean finally takes a step back to admire his handiwork. Castiel is proud when he manages to just arch an eyebrow in question. What was he supposed to be doing again?

"Damn," Dean coughs and rubs the back of his neck. Why is _he_ blushing?

"What?"

"Nothin' just… " He seems to shake himself then smiles at the floor. "Looks good."

Castiel looks down at himself like he can't believe him.

"Not that you weren't before.. er.. I mean you can change it back if you want. It's really nothing..." Dean clears his throat again. "Oh look Ash. I gotta go um, say Hi. Be right back."

Castiel watches him go, feeling his blood rush in his ears. He rubs his arms, self-consciously like he's cold but stops when he notices he's doing it.

When Dean doesn't come back for several minutes, Castiel decides to leave the kitchen. More and more new guests were bustling around grabbing drinks. Weaving through the crowd, he ends up sitting on the stairs. Charlie sits down next to him a minute later, beaming. "Heeey."

"Hello?" he returns, frowning at her.

Dory appears in front of him in khaki pants and a pretty red top. "Whoa, look at Hottie McHottie over here. Where you been hiding?"

"Dean did it," he says anxiously. The urge to try and smooth his hair flat is too strong and he lifts his hand to do just that but Dory bats it away.

"Leave it. You're rockin' serious sex hair."

He widens his eyes and Charlie nods emphatically next to him. Another upbeat song starts playing and Dory grabs Charlie's hand. A moment before she's pulled away, she leans forward to say, "Trust us. Leave it."

She grabs his hand at the last minute, forcibly hauling him up with her. He stands in place while they dance around him for a song before finally breaking away to sit down again on a nearby empty couch. He watches Charlie dance, the fringe of her dress sweeping from side to side. Dory twirling her while she giggles.

He catches sight of a familiar face in the crowd for a second and timidly waves in greeting. Ash sees him and strides over, finishing his beer and crushing the can in his hand. He has on what seemed to be a maroon dress shirt in another life but now has the sleeves crudely cut off.

"Dude…" Ash sighs, leaning on the arm of the couch he's sitting on. "Homecoming… what is it anyway?"

"Well, it's a-"

"Excuse to get all ritzed up and drink spiked punch. Here?". He opens his arms wide. There's no punch. Only spike." He laughs at his own joke with his eyes dropping and swaying on his feet. Not knowing what to say, Castiel just nods.

"You're cool, man. You should try talkin' more."

Which is funny since he's hardly talked at all since Ash swanned over.

"Pie, man. Think Dean has it right. Pie.. you can slice it, dice it, square it." He scrunches his face with his eyes closed and Castiel wonders where this semi-lucid conversation is going. "But who wants that much pie? Too much… 9.869604401-"

After a moment, Castiel realizes what the seemingly random string of numbers Ash is rattling off might be.

"Are you reciting the square of pi? By memory?"

"Huh?"

Castiel repeats the question.

"Am I?" Ash hiccups. "Cool."

Then he promptly falls backwards and slumps into an over-stuffed chair, passing out.

"Oh poor thing," Bela comes over sipping her martini. "George, dearest." Some large blond guy with hair cut so it hangs over his eyes comes out of another room.

"Would you mind placing him upstairs in the guest bedroom on the left?"

"Sure," he smiles at her, scooping Ash up easily over his shoulder.

She eyes Castiel while Ash is removed. He finally looks up at her when it becomes evident she isn't leaving

"Having fun?"

"Mm," he makes a noncommittal noise hoping she leaves soon. He didn't like the way she was appraising him slowly over the rim of her drink. And of course, he really didn't want to think anymore about her with Dean.

After another sip, she's gestures with glass at him. "Did Dean do that?"

He frowns before realizes she meant his hair and whatnot. "Oh, yes."

She smirks and takes another sip. Leaning forward so she's eye level with him, she lowers her voice and says, "Bet he enjoyed mussing you up a bit."

She smiles in satisfaction at his blush and saunters away.

Okay he officially did not like Bela. Even if this was her party in her beautiful lavish house, she was kind of a bitch.

Not wanting to be here alone anymore, he gets up to go bathroom. Down the hall to the left, he raises his fist to knock on the appropriate door but stops when he hears a soft moan. Quickly turning back the way he came, he passes several other closed doors with similar happy noises that makes him crave the awful loud pop music again.

He rubs hands over his face and comes to sit back on the same couch, resolving not to move again. Of course, the current song has a thumping beat that nearby couples are grinding to. As the party barrels on and the drinking continues, the dancing has become more obscene and several pairs break off to just kiss in one of the corners of the room. He blushes again trying to look anywhere but at the drunken teens rubbing against each other. Even Charlie is kissing and giggling when Dory pulls her back as she tries to get away. Finally she successfully breaks free and comes to sit on his couch, squeezing between him and the arm even though the rest of it was open.

"Hi." She smiles at him a little goofy.

"Hello. Again."

A couple plop down next to him on his other side and start making out. He just frowns at them in annoyance. When it becomes obvious they are completely oblivious to his presence, he sighs and leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He sneaks glances around trying to find where Dean went.

Eventually, he finds him. He's talking to two guys, nodding at what they're saying. Laughing. His eyes crinkle a little when he laughs like that. Charlie's voice intrudes on after a moment. "You've got it so bad," she giggle snorts and he looks over his shoulder at her guiltily.

"What?"

"You're staring again."

Castiel turns back around. "I am not," he says without taking his eyes off Dean. Pamela suddenly walks up to him and is apparently trying to get him to dance by swishing her hips in front of him. The two guys laugh and watch.

"Talk to your girlfriend," Castiel says, absently.

"She's off mingling. And you so are."

He doesn't answer. He's too busy imagining what it'd be like to blast Pam with lasers from his eyes.

"Just go. Kiss your knight in shiny armor. I wanna see him sweep you into his arms like on the cover of a romance novel."

He looks over his shoulder at her. "You're drinking?"

Charlie continues sipping on the pink drink in a clear solo cup he just noticed she had. "Oh this? It's a Shirley Temple. There's nothing in it. It's pink and frilly and oh my god so good." She's slurps on just ice for about a full minute.

He raises an eyebrow at her increasingly silly slur. "I think there might have been something in it."

"Shhh. Stop trying to change the subject. Just go over there and… " She squeezes his cheeks, making fish faces and kissy noises.

He jerks away. "You are being ridiculous." He blushes and turns back to see the overly-flirtatious Pamela is suddenly very much in Dean's space, a hand around his neck and laughing in his ear.

"Oh my god, just nut up, Novak! Fortune favors the bold. Or is it brave? Brave and beautiful. And bold. All those B's, fortune's for them."

"Shut up, _Bradbury_." He's squinting at them, dread churning in his stomach. Pamela just kissed Dean on the cheek. He can't see Dean's face but he didn't push her away.

Charlie scoffs loudly from behind him, obviously watching too. "Yeah but on the cheek? I kiss my mom on the-"

Pam grabs his face and kisses him on the mouth.

"Oh.. well I uh don't kiss her like that."

"No," Castiel says flatly, turning away as Dean grabs her by the shoulders, grinning but shaking his head. She shrugs and sashays away. Dean looks around then spots them, heading over.

"Hey."

"Lover boy." Charlie says accusatorily, slurping ice angrily if that's even possible.

"Huh?"

She points back toward where he just was. "Oh yeah... ha, ya saw that huh?" He flicks his eyes to Castiel then away who is resolutely set on blank face.

"She's just a friend. Great and all but uh..."

"You don't have to explain," Castiel says as he begins to fix his tie.

"Yeah I know." Dean frowns down at him. "I just wanted you... you _both_ to know she's not anybody to me."

Castiel snorts and looks away.

Tilting his head, Dean asks, "Got something to say, Cas?"

"Not a thing."

"Then what's with the shitty attitude?"

Charlie winces. "Welp ,I'm just gonna go find-"

"Don't you dare," Castiel holds her arm to keep her next to him. "I'm sorry, Dean but is this not the way I always am? Why should anything be different? Go back to your _friends_. We're fine here."

"You need Charlie to talk to me, now?"

They're silent, glaring at one another and Charlie makes a clumsy break for it, almost spilling her cup of ice when she kicks the coffee table in front of them. "Ouch, ouch, dammit. Um, be right back!"

He darts a look after her then gets to his feet and walks away. He keeps walking without looking back, through flood of people he doesn't know. Past couples making out, someone cheering around a beer keg, laughing and happy music. He just needs quiet. He just needs to think. To breathe.

Castiel walks out into the chilly air and the door closes behind him, abruptly shutting off the noise to a dull beat. Rubbing his face with his hands he shakes his head and then moves to start rolling down his sleeves.

The door opens a moment later and he whirls at the intrusion. "Please just leave me alone."

Dean looks stuck on whether to go back inside or stomp after him. Castiel ignores him to button his right cuff.

Finally Dean growls, "Damnit Cas, I thought we were…"

He stops messing with his sleeves and looks up. "We were what?"

Dean sighs and runs an impatient hand through his hair, "I don't know…"

Turning back around, Castiel coldly answers, "Then I don't either."

"Goddamnit, fine. Whatever."

Castiel spins on him, outraged that he had the audacity to get angry. "What do you want from me?"

Dean just stares at him for several seconds, finally folding his arms. "Why are you so pissed right now?"

"I'm not," he growls.

"Okay. Sure. You're not."

Debating he admits, "So what? I'm angry. I'm not a robot okay?"

Oddly, Dean smiles and walks a little closer, rubbing his finger along his eyebrow. "That really got to you huh? Well that's good. I'm glad you got feelings like the rest of us. So do you even know why you're yelling at me right now?"

"I'm not yelling!"

Dean just raises his eyebrows at how ridiculous that was to be yelled.

"Just stop… stop attacking me."

"I'm not attacking you, Cas. I'm asking you a question you don't wanna answer. And I'm sorry this is hard for you but it ain't freakin' easy for me either."

Dean folds his arms again like he can wait all night.

"And I suppose you know do you?" His voice is sarcastic but there's a touch of fear around the edges.

"I got a couple of guesses."

"Of course you do."

"Well one really."

Rolling his eyes, he turns to go. Anywhere. He'd walk home. He was pretty sure he was about a block from the private school. He could probably find-

"You like me."

Castiel stops, heart hammering. Him saying it out loud like that… it was terrifying.

Dean continues, still with him facing away. "See, I think Pam getting all handsy pissed you off. Tell me I got it wrong."

He's scared of agreeing. Scared of what will happen. Scared of rejection. Just scared. Scared of Dean pressing this and making him admit something. He closes his eyes, breathes out and turns back around. "I… I don't know what you're talking about."

Dean's jaw clenches. "You don't, huh." When he doesn't meet his eyes, he hears the gravel beneath Dean's foot as he turns and starts walking back towards the house. Over his shoulder he yells, "yeah you got no friggin' idea."

Castiel almost calls him back but he can't. The words get stuck in his throat so he's left just looking after him almost about to sob. He balls his fists, digging his nails into his palms. Regret and shame starts flooding in as all the things he could have said pop into his mind. If only he were braver.

Dean's about ten feet away with his hand on the backdoor knob before he mutters, "Screw this."

Castiel lifts his head in time to see he's crossed the distance and is right in front of him. He's suddenly cupping the sides of his face and within a gasp; Dean's lips are on his. He steps back out of surprise but a hand wraps around his neck and keeps him there. He closes his eyes, reaching up to cover the hand still on his face. It's sweet but insistent, Dean catching his lips over and over and tilting Castiel's head where he wants it. The whole thing must only taken a few seconds but he could have lived a lifetime in that moment.

"There," Dean sighs shakily, letting his hands fall to his sides. "You get it now?"

Castiel slowly opens his eyes, almost feeling a little drunk. He has to fight not to lean forward, like Dean's a magnet. He'd say anything to do that again. "No."

Dean's face falls, and he steps back.

"No! I mean yes but, um..." He pauses to lick his lips and smile shyly. "Maybe you can explain it to me some more?"

Dean's green eyes light up and an answering smile touches his lips before it falls away. They just look at each other for a second before he slowly leans forward again.

* * *

**Author's Note: I'm just going to curl into a ball and hide until I know whether you like this or not. Don't mind me. Also, yes I am fully aware I wrote about 50,000 words before they kissed. If you're still reading, I promise to reward your patience. :) **


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: Sorry this took so long, loveys. It's been a rough few weeks personally and it's hard to write this kind of sweet teenage angst when feeling a kinda bitter. But I did try for you. Hope you like it anyway. More to follow soon. **

* * *

They barely touch lips again when someone opens the door too fast, banging it against the wall. A second later retching and coughing follow.

Dean scrunches his face and pulls back. "Well that kinda ruins the mood."

"Not really," Castiel says almost too eagerly. He comes out of his daze and blushes when Dean smiles back at him. He leans closer and the next gagging noise and accompanying splash has them pulling apart again. "Okay maybe."

Dean sighs and shoves his hands in his pockets. "Better check on the wasted redhead we came with."

"Right," he says without really meaning it. He wants to latch onto Dean and make him give him some kind of assurance this wasn't a one time kiss. If they go back inside, will everything go back to how it was?

"Are you drunk?" he asks out of nowhere.

"Nah just the half a beer from earlier."

"Oh." He hesitates when Dean holds the door open for him. "So that was... real.. right? You weren't just- was that just.. um what was that?"

Dean closes the door and steps close again. "It felt pretty damn real to me." His eyebrows draw together like he's gauging Cas' face before moving forward again so their lips brush in a chaste kiss. "You?"

Castiel nods with his eyes closed.

"We'll talk later, kay?"

"Yes," he says a little lost on what he was agreeing to. It's hard to think past his brain's mantra of "Dean kissed me. Dean kissed me. Dean kissed me."

This time he follows him inside and he might as well be floating on a cloud.

"And where have you two been?" Pamela turns with a hand on her hip from talking to Bela as they walk in the house. The music is beating and thumping just as loud as before.

"Cas wasn't feelin' well," Dean says without stopping on his way through the kitchen.

"Well I do hope you're feeling better now," Bela smirks as Castiel passes.

"Yes," he pauses right in front of her. "Thank you for your concern." He's proud of his matter of fact tone that he hopes comes across just as catty. Usually he would just have ignored her but not feeling like this. He'd just had his second kiss, brief as it was, and it has been better than he thought a second kiss could ever be.

Bela raises an eyebrow and toasts him with her martini glass. Pam laughs and points towards the kitchen door. "Go on, Cutie. Your boy's getting away."

Castiel hurries to catch up, a little giddy at the implication. He might not have to blast her with laser eyes after all.. should he ever acquire the ability. He finds Dean standing over a sleeping Charlie. She's curled into a ball in the corner of one couch with Dory holding her.

"She had one too many frou frou drinks," Dory sighs and strokes her hair.

"Wanna get outta here, then?"

"Sounds good. I'll leave my bike here and catch a ride back with you guys if it's cool?"

"Yeah, I guess we'll put up with you." Dean smirks and meets Castiel's gaze again. He hopes Dean's thinking about kissing him again because it's definitely occupying ever spare thought in his head.

Leaning down to scoop her up, Dean nods goodbye to a few people on their way out and asks him to grab his leather jacket off the banister because his arms are full of a half-coherent redhead.

After they get out the door, she begins babbling. "You have to stop being such a spider, Dean..." she murmurs with her eyes closed. "Ow.. why does my knee hurt?" She tries to lean forward to rub it and Dean stumbles to get his balance again.

"Because you banged it. Now stop moving, Red, before we both wind up on our ass. We're almost there."

He looks back to find Castiel. "Hey, grab my keys outta my pocket, will ya?"

"Um.." he blushes at the thought of groping around in Dean's jeans and the other boy rolls his eyes and smiles.

"Jacket pocket. Of the one you're holding…"

"Oh." Feeling a little like an idiot, he quickly finds them and hands them over to Dorothy who runs ahead to unlock the door.

Stomping through springy manicured lawn, Dean takes the moment of relative solitude to sneak an appraising look over at him.

"What?" Castiel asks with cheeks tingled pink.

"I didn't say nothin'."

It's exactly what he had said when Dean caught him looking at him on the way to the party. They both smile and look ahead again at almost the same time. The nervous energy bottled up inside him makes him want to laugh but he manages to get in the passenger seat without making a fool of himself.

Once Charlie's settled in the backseat and cuddled up against Dorothy's arm, Dean gets in. He doesn't move until he fiddles with his collection of tapes and pops in the Led Zeppelin one. He turns it low, meeting his eyes briefly before turning back to pull out onto the dead road.

After an internal debate that lasts half the car ride, Castiel works himself up enough to reach out across the space and covers his hand in the dark in the frontseat. For a heartbeat, he worries it had been an impetuous mistake, but Dean's thumb curls and strokes along his pinky. Through the shadows, he can barely see his face, but he can see enough to know Dean's lips are curled into a small smile.

The way it works out, he has to drop Castiel off first. His house is closer and Dory wants Dean's help carrying her dead to the world girlfriend inside her house. They both share a look but neither disagree even though they definitely have things to talk about.

When he begrudgingly gets out and waves goodbye to everyone, Dean calls him back. He ducks his head in the open window to see him.

"Hey." Dean checks back over his shoulder at the girls before leaning a little closer to the passenger side. "I'll text you later."

"Okay. Goodnight."

"Yeah. It really was." Dean does this thing with his eyes, kind of openly looking him up and down then smirks in a way that makes those treacherous butterflies swan dive all at once. "Later, Cas.."

He's smiling stupidly to himself as he turns around and walks a few steps back towards the house before abruptly whirling back again, almost tripping over his own feet in the process. "Oh, goodnight, Dory!"

She waves him away, rolling her eyes.

Castiel's two steps in the door when he hears, "So?"

He's startled out of smiling to himself and guiltily asks, "What?"

His mom apparently waited up. She clicks off some late night talk show and gets up to come into the kitchen. "Looks like you had fun."

"Oh.. yes." He makes a valiant effort to stop grinning like an idiot but not too hard. Every time he thinks of Dean stomping towards him and grabbing his face… it was like in a movie or something. The music swelled, fireworks sparked and cartoon hearts might as well have been dancing around their heads. As second kisses go, he couldn't ask for a better one.

"Well.. tell me about it! Your first dance."

"I'm um kind of tired, Mom. Maybe in the morning?" Any remorse he felt over lying about going to Homecoming was pushed aside by the resentment of being made to go to church the next day.

"Oh, your Uncle called to say he'll be away for a few weeks on business. Don't forget you owe him an apology."

The Corporate world could have his Uncle as long as it wanted.

"I'll be sure to do that." He willed his face not to light up in the biggest watt smile. His Uncle gone. For several weeks. And Dean just kissed him. Was he stuck in a day dream? Was he going to wake up in Trig?

He turns away to float into his room when his mom asks, "What happened to your hair?"

"My... oh." He reaches up to try and flatten it. "It must have been from all the um dancing."

"You danced?" she asks, incredulously. "Charlie's a special girl to get you dancing."

He almost laughs thinking of her drunkenly mumbling about spiders while making kissy noises.

"She's definitely special."

"It'll just be us for dinner tomorrow if you want to invite her."

"Okay, I'll ask." He turns around and walks a few steps then turns back. "What about Dean?"

Without his Uncle there, he couldn't really see a downside. And by the way he'd been drooling when his mom offered last time, Castiel bet his dad wasn't a big cook.

"Dean?"

"You said to invite him... before."

"Oh, well… sure. Dean too."

In his room, he keeps his phone in plain sight so he can see it at all times while he gets out of his clothes. Once he's in boxers and an undershirt, Castiel sits cross-legged on his bed and just stares at his phone, willing it to do something.

At 11:34, it does.

**hey sorry. finally home. still up?**

He counts to thirty so it won't seem like he was waiting**.****  
**  
_**It's okay. Yes.**_There's a good five minutes where he doesn't text anything and Dean doesn't either.

He breaks first.  
_  
__**What did that mean?**_

The answer is almost immediate.

**what do u want it to mean?**_**  
**_  
Castiel sighs in exasperation. He had no clue what was going through Dean's mind and didn't want to say the wrong thing. Had Dean wanted to kiss him for a while? Was it a spur of the moment thing? Was it no big deal on his part - an experiment or something? Were they supposed to just see what happens and not talk about it?

_**I'm not sure.**_

He waits an excruciatingly long time, fingers hovering over the screen. Finally, Dean responds.

**well… do u want to do it again?**

Not even waiting to appear coy, he immediately texts back.

_**YES**_

**awesome ) me too**

He spends a ridiculously long time re-reading the short message and exalting in a stupid winky face. **  
**  
_**So what now?**_

**how bout a driving lesson tomorrow?****  
**  
Castiel frowns at the phone. What was that supposed to mean? He was hoping for more of an answer.

**we can talk and stuff **  
_  
__**Okay...**_**  
**  
**sorry. I wanna call but dad's up. not a good time. **

_**Oh okay. Tomorrow's fine.**_

**cool. well nite cas **

He bites his lip. He wanted to keep Dean texting. He wanted more, but it obviously would have to wait. How would he last until tomorrow? **  
**  
_**Goodnight, Dean**_.

Sometime around the hundredth time he replays the kiss, Castiel falls asleep.

* * *

Without his Uncle there to crack the whip, his mom doesn't put up much of a fight when he tries to get out of Church. The fact that she had pictures ready and printed from the local one hour photo to show off at service probably contributed to his easy escape. He had no idea why it mattered to her so much that he'd went to Homecoming (or pretended to) but whatever cut him some slack he would gratefully take.

Dean picks him up at almost ten that morning with a half dozen donuts sitting on the passenger seat and two coffees in the cup holders. He drives them to the same abandoned Kmart parking lot where they eat their breakfast in relative silence. Two glazed donuts later, Dean rubs his hands on a napkin then again roughly on his jeans and glances over at him to see he's picking at the same one he started on twenty minutes ago.

"So."

Castiel straightens. "So."

They sit there awkwardly in Dean's car, each waiting for the other to talk first. In the light of day, it wasn't so easy to just reach across the seat and hold his hand. Dean was similarly staring ahead only darting his gaze sideways every so often as if waiting for a cue.

They both jump at his phone chirping in his pocket. It's Charlie's texting him.

**u okay? anything happen with Dean last night? sorry to be a bad wing girl. DO NOT trust deceptively yummy pink drinks! dangerous little suckers. **

_**Busy. Text you later. **_

**k but forgive me?**

_**Forgiven**_**.**

**loooove u =)**

He rolls his eyes at the phone, smiling. "Sorry. Charlie's feeling guilty this morning."

"Yeah, I think she called me a spider last night? Any clue what that was about?"

"None.," he says too quickly. "So.."

"So." Dean smirks.

"What do we do now?"

"Well we could always just..." He pointedly looks at his mouth then shrugs. "Jump to the fun part."

Castiel blushes. "Um… we should- I think we probably need to talk first."

Sighing, Dean spins his key ring around his index finger and catches it. "Yeah guess that'd be too easy."

Relieved he doesn't seem mad, only uncomfortable, Castiel presses, "How long have you…"

"Dunno." Dean hedges. "Probably longer than you think."

"Really?" Castiel frowns at the dashboard. "How? Why?"

"What do ya mean?"

"Why me?"

"Why not you?" Dean challenges.

When he looks out the window at the non-answer, Dean puffs out a long breath the starts speaking all at once. "Okay Jeez if you want a rough rundown... in the beginning you were just fun to mess with. Like poking a grumpy cat. You'd hiss and get your hair all up and it was, ya know, kinda cute."

"You thought it was cute when we were arguing?" He sounds almost indignant.

Dean shrugs.

"So then you got all hung up on that jock and I didn't know why but it bothered me. Every time I saw you getting all flustered about meeting up with him, it bugged me more and more. You'd get this moony-eyed look right before you were about to go and it was just annoying as hell."

Castiel barely breathes watching him as he focuses on spinning and catching the keys in his palm over and over. "Eventually figured out it was cause I wanted you to look at me that way."

After too long of heavy silence, Dean busies himself with grabbing their trash and shoving it in a bag in the backseat. It's obvious he's done.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

He laughs and scratches the back of his neck. "If you remember, you used to hate me."

"I never... _hated_ you."

"Uh huh. Loathed is the word you used I believe."

He closes his eyes and groans. "I was stupid." When he chances a look up, Dean is smiling with this far off look out the windshield.

"What?"

"Nothing, just… reminded me of when you were drunk. The way you crawled into my lap. Jesus, you almost killed me."

Castiel bites his lip and smiles at his hands.

"See that… that right there." He looks up in confusion at Dean smirking and shaking his head. "If you didn't go all pink sometimes or bump into something when I got too close, I woulda never had any hope. You're kinda hard to read if you didn't know."

"I am?" he asks, studiously avoiding commenting on his own awkwardness.

"Dude, you could out stone-face a gunslinger. Maybe that's why getting a rise out of you was so fun."

"Fun." Castiel gives him an unimpressed face.

"Anyway." Dean goes back to talking to the steering wheel. "I probably coulda been less chickenshit and asked but every time I thought maybe you were into me... Well I was never sure really where we stood. Or ya know what I wanted, I guess. It's one thing to think you're hot, totally another to do something about it."

"You think I'm hot?" Tilting his head, Castiel squints at him in disbelief.

"You know I do."

He didn't. He couldn't really imagine Dean thinking that. He was pale. He didn't have muscles, or not enough to make it obvious anyway. Not like Dean. Or Michael. Or Benny. Or almost any other guy he knew that he fit that label in his head. Castiel tucks his chin, picking at his cuticles. What does he even say to that? Should he tell him the same?

Dean leans over and tips up his chin. "What, you don't believe me?"

He just stares at him with slightly wide eyes. "Well…"

Dean hasn't dropped his hand, just curves it around the side of his neck. "I think about you a lot, Cas. And this tie…" He reaches forward with his other hand to run it through his fingers, looking up through his lashes.

"Um.." Castiel swallows the extra saliva in his mouth. He was leaning forward without meaning to but Dean's words were soft and touches light, luring him in.

Dean's thumb rubs along his jaw to rest on his chin, their mouths getting closer. "And man, last night… letting me do that to your hair..."

He blinks slow, moving closer, eagerly eating up each word.

"And rollin' up your sleeves…" Dean pauses to make a satisfied noise. "Looked damn good on you."

Castiel automatically jolts internally out of his haze. He tries to surreptitiously reach down to tug on his buttoned cuffs for comfort, no longer happy with his words or closeness while his insecurities pop the cozy bubble they'd just been in.

Dean frowns at the way he pulls away slightly. "What?"

He looks down at him fidgeting and must figure it out because he takes his hand so he stops. It's warm and callused. Perfect. "Hey. You don't got anything to be ashamed of. You hear me?"

Don't say anything. You could be kissing this beautiful boy and you're being an idiot. But Dean's wrong. He had plenty to be ashamed of. His scars were tallies of all the times he'd been weak. Failed. But he's looking at him expectantly, so Castiel softly whispers, "But they're... ugly"

Dean dips his head to catch his eyes and only when he's meeting them does he speak. "You can't see 'em unless you know where to look and even if you could… nothin' about you is ugly, Cas."

His lips twitch but stubbornly refuses to be comforted by his words. "You haven't seen all of me."

"That an invitation?"

He glances up to see Dean waggling his eyes in an overtly lecherous grin and just like that the tension breaks or at least shifts back to the anxious fun kind. Dean leans forward to kiss his cheek lightly. "You don't gotta hide with me, okay?" he murmurs, distracting him from the fact that he's unbuttoning his right cuff and folding it up to expose his arm. Castiel stays completely pliant letting him do it because his lips are skipping lingeringly along his jaw as he does the same to his left. After kissing the hinge of his jaw, Dean makes his way back towards his lips while splayed fingers rub upwards. From his naked wrists to his inner arms, over his elbows, biceps, along the slope of his shoulders then up to bracket his neck until finally Dean is hovering right there, lips touching but not pressing. Castiel inhales shakily, balanced on the breaking point, before surging forward.

He doesn't know what he's doing really, but he tries to imitate Dean as best he can. It's all been closed-lipped and sweet thus far but that is more than enough and Dean seems happy to just rub lips lazily. He has a suspicion he's being careful with him and it's appreciated. After a moment or two he forgets to be terrified he'll ruin it or worry the smacking noises of their lips is too loud and relaxes enough to notice Dean tastes like sweet glaze from the donuts.

Pulling back to grin, Dean says, "Could get used to that."

He smiles back shyly and unclenches his hands which he just realized were bunched in his slacks. "So are we… is this something we're going to do now?"

Seventeen Magazine advised never to force your significant other into defining your relationship too early. Asking if Dean wanted to be his boyfriend could scare him off. Not that he dreamed he ever needed that tidbit. He'll have to mention to Gabriel next time he's home how surprisingly useful all of his unwanted quoting from the thing had been.

Dean raises an eyebrow probably thinking he was a moron but he didn't know how else to ask. "Well yeah. I want to. You?"

Castiel nods, eyes dropping to his mouth again and maybe leaning closer again.

"Let's just keep it cool at school though okay?"

He shifts back, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "You don't want me to tell anyone?" Not that he had many to tell but still…

"Just for a while? It's uh kinda new for me and all. The guy thing."

"Okay.." He doesn't like it but then Dean kisses him again and he forgets to care. Might even forget his own name.

Their driving lesson is less than instructive. Thankfully the roads are empty since most people are at Church or sleeping in this early on a Sunday morning because Dean waits until he pulls out of the parking lot to start in on the questions he must have saved up.

"So last night…I was right… right? About Pam making you jealous."

Castiel stares ahead like his life depends on it. "Um.. should I turn at the next street coming up?"

Dean gives a distracted "yeah" before continuing. "Ya know, cause when you said you didn't know what I was talkin' about… you were uh… just like.."

"What?" he asks to end his floundering. Dean seems to be just frustrating himself and getting more confusing.

"I mean I'm taking it you liked me too.. before? Since you kissed me back and all."

Castiel briefly mashes the brakes and winces at the abrupt stop. "Sorry."

Dean untenses from the jolting of the car. "Nah, it's my bad. Just forget it. Focus on the road."

He darts a glance over to see the other boy chewing on his thumb nail.

Had he really not… no. He hadn't actually said it in so many words. Or any words, he realizes. Both last night and today, he'd mostly just let Dean talk and then kiss him.

"I thought it was fairly obvious," he tries to get away with.

"Still, a guy likes to hear it." Dean sounds a little vulnerable, maybe a touch defensive.

Talking out his feelings is far from his easiest thing, but Castiel tries to summon up the right words. He didn't want Dean to know how much he'd been obsessing about him the last few weeks but he didn't want to seem too casual about it either. Not that he'd even been paying attention to how it happened. Or when. One moment he was calling Dean an asshole in French and then all at once, he was dreaming about freckles and not able to meet his eyes.

He clears his throat, keeping his eyes on the road. "Yes, I've liked you for quite a while. I should have said that earlier but it just seemed… very apparent to me." Out of his peripheral, Dean straightens up out of his slump and he quickly adds, "Not that you still aren't irritating at times."

"Irritating, huh?"

"Mmm," he agrees while making the necessary turn. He misses the devious look in his passenger's eye.

"So you thought it was irritating when I kissed you?" Fingers creep across the seat to rest on Castiel's knee. Apparently Dean's confidence was back in full force now.

"Y-yes..." he manages, trying to sound serious. "It was really very..."

Dean rubs a circle just to the left of his knee.

"Very…" What was he even talking about?

One hand on the back of the seat, the other on the dashboard, Dean leans forward to kiss the corner of his mouth, causing Castiel to turn towards him.

"Hey, eyes on the road, NerdAngel."

He goes back to it, shivering slightly when Dean tentatively moves forward to kiss under his jaw and over his adam's apple.

"That is… not… irritating, it is however very… distracting."

While he is definitely enjoying Dean's new affectionate touches, he absolutely cannot handle this kind of thing right now. Not while trying to drive Dean's scary precious car.

"Well, Cas, you gotta be able to drive under any circumstances." Dean sounds smug suddenly at the side of his neck, a new and amazingly sensitive place to be kissed.

"Dean…" he sighs, squirming and shrugging his shoulder in a small defense against the ticklish torture of lips hovering below his ear.

Dean pecks him one last time and backs off. "Sorry, you're just too tempting. Must get me hot when someone calls me irritating."

Regret and relief slip in all at once that he stopped. Castiel laughs a little breathless. "Really."

"And ya know… when they say they like me."

There's a heavy silence for a moment while Castiel processes that he had said those scary words and so had Dean and now he would do stuff like this… kiss him in his car. If he wasn't driving, they could be kissing right now, a thought that both excited and terrified him. It felt so fragile like at any moment he might say or do the wrong thing and ruin it. He wants to reach over and take his hand again to reaffirm this was real and he could do that now too, but with his luck he would crash.

Remembering something, he suddenly asks, "Oh, um Dean?"

"Hey you said it. No take backs."

"No.. I'm not. I definitely, definitely do. I just, my mother invited you to dinner."

"Damn."

"Oh, you don't have to go. Don't worry about it."

"No. I want to. I just already told Sam I'd make dinner tonight."

"You cook?"

"Yeah, you know, a little. Basic stuff. But raincheck?"

They drive through clusters of neighborhoods and Dean doesn't sneak any more kisses even though he kind of hoped he would. Most of their driving lesson had been taken up with their donuts and parking lot confessions earlier but he still feels pretty confident in his growing abilities, only panicking and mashing the brakes the whole time.

After Dean instructs him to pull in for gas at a 7-11, they switch places, Castiel's neighborhood being on the otherside of an intimidating highway he wasn't quite up for navigating yet.

"Did you miss me, Baby?"

Castiel whips his head around at the endearment but then realizes he's stroking the steering wheel. It would be stupid to be jealous of a car, he tells himself. Even so, he says, "You do realize you have an unhealthy attachment to this vehicle?"

"Don't listen to him, sweetheart," Dean pretends to whisper as Castiel shakes his head. He reaches past him into the glove compartment; obviously aware of how affected he is by his closeness because he takes his sweet time, smiling wolfishly. Finally he pulls out a battered tape and pops it into the player. A classic rock beat starts up spins the dial so it booms out of the open windows. He claps his hands together, bobbing his head and Castiel outright laughs when he mouths the words at him, claiming he "shook him allll niiight looong."

When Dean drops him off outside his house a few minutes later, there's a neighbor taking forever at her mailbox. She's in floral stretch pants, dyed orangey red hair and over-sized glasses perched at the tip of her nose. Though neither of them acknowledges it, they're waiting for her to leave to say goodbye. Hopefully to kiss.

"Is she seriously reading her mail at the damn mailbox?" Dean grumbles, watching.

"Mrs. Gunderson." Castiel glowers in her direction. "And it appears so."

Then of course she raises a hand at noticing him and calls out at "helllooo," waving her hand up and down in a fluttery wave. "Cassie!"

"Dude. Cassie?"

He sighs and rolls his eyes to the ceiling. "My mother calls me that."

Dean smirks. "Cute."

"It absolutely is not."

"Hmm… Cassie." He pretends to test it out.

"If you call me that I'll never let you kiss me again." Castiel tries to sound serious but it's completely an empty threat.

"Liar," Dean's eyes drop to his mouth then back up in a little challenge and he has to swallow nervously.

"Well I, uh should go before she actually walks over here and tries to educate me on the upkeep of her rose bushes."

"Yeah, alright," Dean sighs heavily. He takes his hand before he can leave though and stares at him meaningfully. "So… we're cool? I mean, this is okay? You and me?"

Castiel squeezes his hand and nods. He darts his eyes to the side to see his neighbor is temporarily interested in a junkmail ad and gives him a quick kiss. His eyes are wide, a little surprised at his own boldness but it was worth it to see the sparkle in those green eyes.

His neighbor still catches him in his driveway but he lets her go on for a full five minutes and smiles every boring moment of it.

* * *

**Author's Note: I'll try to have**** the next chapter out in the next few days, darlings. Have it mostly written. Thanks for your love and support for this story!**


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